


books and mind reading

by nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:50:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 108,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare/pseuds/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare
Summary: New summary because the old one was not very summarizing, not that any of my summaries are fantastic but let's just get on with it, all right:Shion can read minds, an ability more overwhelming than he was prepared for when he moved from his small hometown to the city for university. In the city, he meets Nezumi, whose mind is much different than anyone's Shion has read before. Shion breaks his own rule by telling Nezumi he can mind read, intending on never seeing the man again - an intention that, of course, does not quite pan out.





	1. Chapter 1

_The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck, she actually licked her lips like an animal._

            Shion nearly dropped the book in his hands, his face hot, staring around him, but there was no one in the aisle alongside him.

            The words must have come from the other side of the shelf he faced, and he stared at the shelf, at the books carefully standing in his way so that he could not see the other side of it, but he could hear the voice, loud and clear as if it was in his head.

            _Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed to fasten on my throat…_

Shion walked slowly along the length of the aisle, having put down the book he’d held and quickly forgotten, one hand clamped over his lips to stop a laugh from escaping.

            He didn’t know what was funny. The words, maybe. They were definitely strange, but he didn’t know why he felt a desire to laugh at them.

            Perhaps, he reasoned, because they were being so loudly spoken in a library, where there were only supposed to be hushed whispers, definitely not a voice as loud as this, as clear as this, as in his head as –

            _I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited –_

Shion turned at the end of the aisle, around the shelf, noting with some confusion as he did so that no one else in the library sitting at the small tables or wandering the aisles across from him seemed interested in the voice Shion heard.

Stepping around the shelf, Shion saw the speaker and heard the words still even as he noted that the speaker was not speaking at all –

            _– waited with beating heart._

            Long fingers skated the page like the book the reader held was written in braille. The voice in Shion’s head was silent, and Shion realized it had been in his head the entire time.

            This, in itself, was not alarming. Shion frequently had voices in his head that did not belong to him. He had been able to read minds since he was sixteen, the same day his hair turned white and his eyes red, the same day the scar appeared around his body.

            The long fingers were flipping through pages now, casually but with purpose, and then the voice was back.

            _Ah, it is the fault of our science that wants to explain all; and if it explains not, then it says there is nothing to explain. But yet we see around us every day the growth of new beliefs…_

            More pages were flipped. Shion stepped forward, but the reader he watched standing halfway down the aisle with the book propped open in one palm and his fingers of the other deftly shifting its pages did not seem to notice him.

            Shion had held many voices in his head. But none that drew him forward as much as this one.

            The pages stopped, and Shion held his breath so that he would not miss a syllable even though it would be impossible to miss, the sound not outside his ears but between them.

            _There was something diabolically sweet in her tones – something of the tingling of glass when struck-which rang through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another._

            Tissue paper. Fog. Moonlight.

            Shion tried to locate adjectives to describe the voice of the reader, but all that came to him were nouns.

            Mornings. Snow. Lightning.

            _I’m being watched._

            Shion stiffened, and then the reader was looking at him, and his eyes were grey, and that was the only thought in Shion’s head, that was the only voice.

            Shion could not read every mind. He suspected that would become awfully confusing, migraine-inducing, maddening. He could only read the minds of people he was looking at, which was in itself distracting enough.

            This was the first mystery of the reader Shion blinked at now. Shion had heard this man’s voice in his head from behind the shelf, while Shion had been skimming over the book in his own hands – seeing nothing but the words on the page, certainly not another human being, certainly not _this_ human being.

            The second mystery was the sudden quiet in Shion’s head.

            He knew what he looked like since the change of his appearance. He knew his appearance was startling not only from his own account, but from the minds of those he read, those who looked at him.

            He got to hear every first impression he made, and most were startled, some frightened, a few intrigued, a few horrified.

            Shion preferred not to look at people for a few seconds while meeting them. Let them get their first impressions out of the way before he had to hear them in his own head. Give them time to subdue their surprise before he looked at them and could hear every thought they had.

            _Red eyes._

            People’s thoughts were generally not full sentences – other than when they read to themselves, of course. Mostly, Shion received snippets, fragments, thoughts that slipped into each other, that broke off, that rejoined, that faltered. Shion had never realized what a mess it was inside his own head until he’d been forced to listen to what went on inside the heads of others.

            _Snow-hair. Soft?_

            Shion had been able to read minds for four years. He knew not to let himself get caught up listening to the thoughts of the people he was looking at, he knew it would appear as if he was merely staring, he knew it would look strange, off-putting, even.

            Shion had never told anyone but his childhood best friend that he could the read minds of the people he looked at, and he knew better than to share this information with strangers.

            _He’s staring._

            Shion cleared his throat. “Um. Hi.”

            The reader just nodded at Shion, then looked away from him, back at the book in his hands, but Shion could hear in his own head that the reader’s attention had not shifted alongside his gaze.

            _Red eyes? Scar. Still staring._

Shion quickly dropped his eyes to his shoes, the blue carpet beneath them, tightly curled threads. The voice would be absent from his head now, the voice he still wished he could find some way to describe.

            The deepest part of the ocean. Smoke. A heartbeat.

            _Familiar? Strange. Not familiar. Shouldn’t be familiar. Isn’t familiar. Red eyes._

            Shion turned to face the bookshelf. Raised his hand, placed a finger on the spine of a book, not because he was interested in it, not because he even knew what book he touched, but to appear as if he had a purpose in this aisle other than to listen to this man whose thoughts he should not still have been hearing.

            Shion closed his eyes to test it. He was not looking at the reader now in any way. Not possibly through his peripherals. Not through some blind spot in his cornea where he could see but not acknowledge what he was seeing.

            _Dracula. Red eyes. Ridiculous, ha._

            Shion opened his eyes. He stared at the spines of the books in front of him. He’d never heard a laugh inside his head. He didn’t know people could think in laughter. The sound of it was shocking, amazing, and not only because Shion should not have been hearing anything at all but his own thoughts with his eyes closed.

            The insides of his eyelids had become a relief. Shion knew he would hear no thoughts but his own when his eyes were closed. To have a break, a guarantee of being alone with his own mind where no one could interfere – it had always been a safe place, but now here was this other voice, infiltrating the darkness behind Shion’s closed eyelids.

            Shion didn’t know what made this man the exception to his rule. He had never come across someone like this. He didn’t mind so much, despite the shock of it.

            Of all the minds Shion had listened to, this one was the least cluttered, the least frazzled, the least constant.

            It was calming, like the sky above an ocean. There were not the everyday thoughts of other people Shion heard, the grocery lists, the worries, the reminders, the three lines of repeating lyrics, the daydreams. Thoughts did not stop, did not soften and quiet the way the thoughts of the reader did. Minds were crowded, and Shion, when he was forced to house minds that weren’t his own, felt overwhelmed, could not look at people for too long, took haven in books where his eyes would have nowhere to wander but the page, have nothing to bump into but another word, more ink on page, black on white, meaningless shapes that offered him nothing but their own simple meaning.

            In the silence, Shion turned his head just a fraction, but the reader was gone from the aisle. Shion blinked at the space emptied of him, wondering if it had all been in his head – not only the voice, but the man himself, the long fingers, the book braced on his palm, the grey eyes.

            He’d had big hands. Long legs. One pale ear peeked out the curtain of his dark hair that had been tucked behind it. The hair was long. Touched his shoulders. Shifted when he’d moved.

            Shion left the aisle. Looked for the reader, certain he could not have made up such a man, even more certain he could not have made up such a voice, and then it was back.

            _Dammit._

            The voice, of course, was in Shion’s head, so he could not tell the direction of the man whose thoughts it came from, and he continued to look around, finally saw with an exhale of relief the reader at the front counter, checking out the book that had been in his hands.

            Shion walked towards him, then stopped abruptly, backtracked into an aisle, pulled a random book from its shelf and held it tight, his excuse to walk to the front counter – he, too, was simply checking out a book, waiting behind the reader for his own turn.

            From the closer vantage point of one yard behind him, Shion watched the reader reach into his pocket, pull out his wallet, give money to the woman behind the counter.

            A late fee. That explained the – _Dammit._

            On watching the exchange of money into the librarian’s hands, Shion’s mind was flooded.

            _Beautiful – too young – Desmond used to look like – but not quite as handsome – nearly so – our wedding night – 1977 my Lord the time has gone – arthritis now – these hands, curse them – Change? No, exact change – Such a handsome man – if I could – even just a kiss – so long since I’ve been kissed – by a man like that? – He’d kiss deeply! Oh, oh, oh –_

            “Just the one book today?” the librarian asked, her voice jarring her thoughts, and Shion quickly looked away from her to be spared another barrage of what was running through her mind.

            Sometimes he felt sucked into them, the thoughts of others. Unable to look away and silence them.

            “Yes, thank you.”

            The voices in Shion’s head always matched the actual voices of the people they belonged to. The reader’s voice was not an exception, no less remarkable outside Shion’s head than it had been inside it.

            “ _Dracula,_ ” the librarian said, and Shion was startled by this, remembering that the reader had thought this word right before Shion had heard that sudden exhale of laughter in his head.

            “Again? Too scary for me,” the librarian was continuing. “Don’t like bats, you see.”

            “You’re missing out,” the reader said, and Shion was staring at his back, should have heard more thoughts, but the reader seemed to have none.

            Calming.

            The librarian laughed. “Don’t let me see you back here tomorrow, now, you get out and get some sun, not good for a young man to read as much as you do.”

            “Have a good afternoon,” the reader said, his thoughts not seeming to register the librarian’s words, and then he was walking away from the counter.

            _Staring._

            Shion wasn’t quick enough to register the reader’s voice in his head and what it meant before the reader was glancing behind his shoulder, his eyes catching on Shion’s.

            _Him again. Cute. Stalker. Red eyes. Soft hair. Is it soft? Following me. Wide eyes. Staring._

            Shion looked away, accidentally at the librarian, forced to hear her dissection of the conversation she’d just had with the reader until Shion looked away from her, at the book in his hands as he walked forward.

            Cute? Had the reader thought he was cute?

            Shion braced himself, then looked back at the librarian, her thoughts crowding his head as he checked out the book he’d randomly grabbed – the third book in a series he’d never heard of, much less read the prequels of – and then he was able to look away from her, but the reader was gone from the library completely.

            Shion could tell, with the reader’s clear familiarity with the librarian and her comments to him, that the reader frequented this library very often.

            Shion was certain he would see the reader again.

*

Shion was newly twenty years old. He was supposed to be in the first month of his second year of college, but he had not made it to the first week.

            He had dropped out at the beginning of the semester.

            Shion had been paying for the lease on his apartment on campus with money he made working for one of his professors. His professor, on learning Shion had dropped out of the university, informed Shion that he could no longer work for him.

            Shion wasn’t sure how he was going to keep paying for his apartment.

            He knew he could always move back into his childhood home, his room on the second floor of his mother’s bakery where he had worked during grade school and in the summer after his first year of college.

            But Shion had been feeling restless. He’d been feeling restless for some time, for four years, ever since he’d been able to read minds.

            People, he’d learned, worried constantly, and Shion was privy to the worries of everyone around him. He lost focus in his classes, accidentally looking at his classmates, reading their minds that wandered from the lecture so that Shion’s mind would be forced to wander as well, along whatever path his classmates took him on. Even his professors were never fully focused; to look at them and only them was impossible in lecture halls with hundreds of students, but even when Shion sat at the front of the room and pulled up his hood to shield his peripherals, it was only to find his professors had wandering minds as well.

            Shion had spent the first year of college mostly in his dorm reading his textbooks to catch up on what he’d missed from his lectures, but even the dorm was overwhelming. Living in an apartment, Shion quickly learned the first week of his second year, was not much better.

            Universities were crowded. Campuses were filled with students, with people undergoing break ups, a girl whose mother was in the hospital, a boy who had learned his girlfriend was pregnant, a football player who wanted to quit but needed his scholarship, a violinist who couldn’t keep up with the rest of the orchestra.

            Shion had grown up in a small town where he knew the people, knew his classmates at school, knew the customers at the bakery. He knew their thoughts, and their voices in his head stopped being so distracting, were familiar and even welcome.

            To be in a city was another thing altogether. A challenge he couldn’t figure out. The stresses of the people around him had begun to weigh down on him, to the point where Shion found himself unable to go to class, unable to do anything but stay in his room with his eyes closed, or else read, escape every single voice including his own.

            Shion had always been a hard worker. A good student. Ahead of his classmates. Promised to do great things. It was a fate that had been so expected of him that it was the only normal he knew, the only reality he could trust, and now, he had ruined it.

            To distract himself, Shion went to the library, no longer able to go to his university’s library, going instead to the public library for the first time since he’d come to the city, and there was the reader whose voice rang in Shion’s head even when Shion wasn’t looking at him, even when Shion was supposed to be safe.

            Shion had not minded it one bit.

            He returned to the library the next day, and then the next, and it was on the third day that Shion saw the reader again – or rather, heard him.

            _He was beaten (he knew that); but he was not broken. He saw, once for all, that he stood no chance against a man with a club. He had learned the lesson, and in all his after life he never forgot about it._

            Calming.

            Shion touched his lips that had turned up. Walked along the aisles, unsure where the reader was, not necessarily needing to see him as yet – to hear him was enough, was more than enough.

            _And not only did he learn by experience, but instincts long dead became alive again. The domesticated generations fell from him._

            Shion’s fingers grazed the spines of the books he walked past. He had closed his eyes. Felt his way down the aisle. Nothing in his head but darkness and that voice he still could not describe.

            Hard rain. Midnight. Powdered sugar.

            _Buck stood and looked on, the successful champion, the dominant primordial beast who had made his kill and found it good._

            At the end of the aisle, Shion did not open his eyes. His hand skimmed the smooth side of the shelf, and then he was walking along the opposite side of the shelf that he’d just traced. He did not know if there was someone in the aisle, and he did not care to open his eyes and see, to have another voice in his head alongside this one that felt like it belonged, even if it was not his, even if he still struggled to describe it.

            Falling dominoes. Cinnamon. A leaking faucet.

            _Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire, and to plunge into the forest – Him again._

            Shion stopped. Realized that there was indeed someone in the aisle with him, not just someone. Shion opened his eyes to see the reader from three days before, again holding a book in one hand, the long fingers of the other paused on the page of his book.

            “Hi,” Shion said, again.

            The inky hair was pulled up into a ponytail today. There were sweeping bangs. Beneath them, the grey eyes, watching Shion carefully.

            _Looks hopeful? Following me. Familiar? No. Stranger. Strange. Wants something._

            Shion knew not to shake his head. Knew not to tell the reader he did not want anything from him. Knew not to respond to the reader’s thoughts that were in his head because they weren’t supposed to be there, and no one knew Shion could read minds but his best friend Safu, whom he’d only told because he’d thought at first that he was going crazy.

            He knew now that he was not crazy.

            “My name is Shion,” Shion said, not knowing what else to say but wanting to say something, not wanting the reader to walk away from him when he certainly had reason to – they were only strangers, after all.

            _Who cares?_

            Shion swallowed.

            The long fingers left the page of the book the reader held to tuck his bangs behind his ear.

            “I was thinking – I’ve seen you here before – And I thought,” Shion shook his head. He didn’t have trouble talking to people, and he rarely ever felt nervous around other people because he could always tell what they were thinking.

            There was always that intrusion of thoughts, constant thoughts, ceaseless thoughts.

            But this man had a quiet mind. Calming, but at the same time troublesome.

            Shion had become accustomed to his ability. To knowing everything he wanted to know, more than what he wanted to know. But the reader offered him hardly anything at all.

            _Flirting. Of course. Terrible at it. Cute, though. A good fuck._

Shion bit hard on the inside of his cheek, looked away from the reader for a break, to clear his head. Stared at the spines of the books on the shelf beside him, but he’d forgotten this man was not like everyone else, he’d forgotten that simply to look away from him would not silence his thoughts from Shion’s head.

            _Blushing. Nice lips. Looks flexible. Probably kinky._

            Shion giggled, the sound escaping him, then slammed his palm to his lips, stared at the reader, who raised his eyebrows back at him.

            _Might be insane. Still cute. Soft hair. Looks soft. Is it soft?_

            “Something funny?” the reader asked. The book in his hand shut quietly, his fingers closing around it.

            Shion freed his lips from his palm. “What are you reading?” he asked, to change the subject from himself.

            _Unusual. Socially awkward. Terrible at flirting._

“I’m not flirting!” Shion snapped, and he wanted to slam his palm to his lips again, shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket instead.

_Liar._

            The reader’s lips quirked up into a small smirk. “I didn’t say you were.”

            “You were thinking it,” Shion retorted, even though he wasn’t supposed to know that, he had no reason to know that.

            “Oh, I see. You’re a mind reader.”

“Yes, I am,” Shion said, just to say it. The last time he’d admitted it was four years ago.

            He would not be coming back to this library again. He would be leaving the city soon anyway. He couldn’t afford his own apartment. He’d have to move back in with his mother. He had dropped out of college. He still couldn’t rationalize the thought in his head, still tried not to think about it.

            He would never see this man again. Why not tell him? It’s not like the man would believe him.

            _Shion. His name is Shion. Entertaining. Interesting. Surprising._

            “Then tell me, Shion, what am I thinking?”

            The reader was smiling now. It was a light smile, like air. He had leaned closer to Shion, and Shion looked at his bangs, the way they had freed themselves from behind the reader’s ears, fell forward, grazed his cheek.

            _Always staring. White eyelashes. Under my fingertips. If we fucked he’d be the type to fall asleep immediately afterward._

            Shion did not know how this man was thinking about having sex with him, why he would even be thinking of such a thing.

            Shion knew what he looked like, and the first reaction he incited in people was not desire.

            Shion reminded himself that after he walked out of the library, he would go to his apartment, pack, and leave the city. Shion reminded himself that no one would ever believe a mind reader could exist, even if the evidence was right in front of them.

            “You’re thinking about touching my eyelashes. You’re thinking about how if we had sex, I’d fall asleep afterward,” Shion said, not thinking too hard about the words as he said them, knowing they were not words normally spoken, and there was a reason for this.

            To say them felt exposing. Shion felt, suddenly, stripped, naked. They were not even his own thoughts, but to say them felt like ownership, as if he had been the one to think them, as if the words had originated in his head.

            Shion had learned, from four years of reading minds, that the thoughts people had were very different from the words that left their lips. Thoughts were secret. They were often embarrassing, extreme, unexpected, nonsensical. As much as Shion heard mundane thoughts of grocery lists and song lyrics, there were the wild thoughts he would never have expected from a customer ordering a basket of scones, or a classmate tapping her pencil on her notebook, or a professor uncapping a marker to write on the dry-erase board.

            To have these thoughts in his head was jarring enough, but Shion had gotten used to it.

            To speak them was something else altogether, and Shion felt all at once, after speaking, a complete humiliation.

            He turned abruptly and walked away from the reader, his heart in his ears, voices in his head of the people he glimpsed as he walked out of the library, quick flashes of thoughts in his head too quick to read, enough to give him a headache, and he tried to tune them out but that was impossible, he tried not to look at anyone but that was hardly any more possible than his previous venture.

            The air outside the library was cool and refreshing. Shion was walking quickly and did not slow down. Continued walking all the way to his apartment when usually he took a bus. Pulled out his suitcase from under his bed and began to throw clothing into it.

            He did not stop packing until his apartment was emptied, and only then did he realize it didn’t matter, his lease wasn’t up until the first day of the new year. He had three more months.

            Shion collapsed on his suitcase. His heart beat had not slowed since he’d stood in the library, telling the reader what he’d read from his mind.

            Shion took out his phone, called Safu, and listened to the ring of his phone, hoping she would pick up so he could admit to her what an idiot he was, what a stupid thing he’d done, how incredible it had felt all the same, finally telling someone else besides her the secret he’d been keeping for four years.

*

Shion would not have returned to the public library had he not realized he’d never returned the book he’d checked out the first day he’d heard the reader’s voice in his head.

            It was three weeks since he’d checked out the book. It was due. Shion had never had a late library book, and while that seemed a very small issue in his life currently, he thought he might crumble under the weight of his inadequacy if he had an overdue library book on top of being a college dropout without a job when he had always been told he would be promising, do great things, was incredibly smart with so much potential.

            Shion had begun to hate that word. _Potential._

            It used to feel like a goal. Like something to strive towards.

            Only since he’d moved to the city did the word seem like a curse. Shion had always wanted to work with people, to help people, but it was the people who needed help whose thoughts crippled him most.

            Shion knew he could not help everyone. There were so many people with so many worries, and Shion had begun to feel powerless.

            What could he ever do that would make a real difference?

            It was raining. Shion was wet from the rain. He’d left his umbrella in the bathroom of a coffee shop a month before and never replaced it. He stood in front of the book depository outside the library for cars that pulled up and people who didn’t wish to go inside the library.

            People like Shion.

            Shion pushed the slot open, slid in his book that he hadn’t read because he’d only checked it out as an excuse to stand in the check-out line behind the reader whom he still couldn’t stop thinking about, though at least the voice was gone from his head.

            _White hair._

            Shion spun around, and there was the reader standing beneath an umbrella. Rain fell around him, not quite roughly and not quite softly.

            “You’ll get drenched if you keep standing there gaping,” the reader said. His voice was the same volume as the falling rain.

            _Are you reading my mind?_

            Shion tried to take a step back, but the book depository bin was behind him, blocked him.

            “I can’t read minds, it was a joke,” Shion said. The denial sounded stupid, out in the rain between them.

            “Mind reader and a comedian. Aren’t you talented?” the reader said.

            _I know you’re reading my mind._

Shion shook his head, even though he knew better than to react to the voices in his head.

            “You drink coffee, mind reader?”

            “I’m not a mind reader. No one can read minds. That’s ridiculous.”

            “You drink coffee, Shion?” the reader amended. There was that smirk again.

            Shion felt his lips part. He took a breath through them, deep, feeling rain on his lips.

            “Yes.” His voice was a whisper. A woman walked into view behind the reader, and her thoughts flooded Shion’s head.

            _That perfume again – home late – paranoid – but what if? – the children would be –_

            Shion closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to hear anymore.

            _Get coffee with me. Get coffee with me. Get coffee with –_

            Shion opened his eyes, found the reader grinning.

            “Okay,” Shion agreed, and the reader did not look surprised, nodded and turned around.

            _Keep up._

            It was only then that Shion remembered he did not know the reader’s name.

            Shion walked towards him, at a quick pace until he caught up, felt the rain stop falling on his skin as he fell into step beside the reader.

            He glanced up to see the reader’s umbrella over his head.

            “What’s your name?” Shion asked.

            _Nezumi._

            Shion turned to him, looked at the smoothness of the reader’s profile. “Nezumi?”

            The reader – Nezumi – glanced at him, his surprise quick over his features.

            _You really can read minds._

            “I’d prefer if we just had a normal conversation,” Shion said, looking away from the reader’s profile, though he’d have been content to look at it longer.

            _Why?_

            “Stop that.”

            _Stop what?_

“Replying in your thoughts instead of out loud!” Shion said, pushing his hair from his forehead where it had stuck with the rain.

            “Did you fall into radioactive goop?”

            “What?” Shion glanced at him again. Nezumi. His name was Nezumi.

            “That’s how superheroes are born, isn’t it? That or getting bit by spiders.”

            “I’m not a superhero.”

            “Once you get a cape you’ll be set.”

            Shion squinted at Nezumi’s profile. “Shouldn’t you be – I don’t know – More…shocked?”

            “I had nearly three weeks to be shocked,” Nezumi replied.

            Shion was surprised Nezumi had been keeping count.

            He wrapped his arms around himself. “Sorry.”

            “For what?”

            They were crossing the street. Shion had not been paying attention to where they were going. Tried to figure out where they were.

            “For, you know. Reading your mind that day. And before that day. And now. Thoughts are private, I do realize that, I can’t help it – It’s not like I want to – ”

            “You’re apologizing for knowing I was thinking about fucking you,” Nezumi said, and Shion stepped into a large puddle, felt rainwater seep into his shoes, slowly soak his socks at the toes.

            “Um. Yes. I guess so. Sorry.”

            “Don’t be.” _I’m still thinking about it._

            “Please don’t do that.”

            “Thinking about it or talking to you in my thoughts?”

            Shion was careful to walk around the large puddle in front of them. “Talking to me in my thoughts.”

            “So you want me to think about fucking you?”

            “Where are we going?” Shion asked, to avoid answering but also because he didn’t know, he couldn’t keep up, he didn’t understand the conversation he was having nor the man he was having it with, he didn’t know how he could have told someone he read minds and that someone was taking it in stride, like it was not strange, it was not abnormal, it was hardly fascinating.

            “To get coffee,” Nezumi said, and then his hand was around Shion’s arm, and Shion was looking down at it as it steered him so that he stumbled over his feet.

            He looked away from the hand on his arm to see that he was in front of the doors to the same coffee shop where he’d lost his umbrella a month before.

            Shion reached out, opened the door, and let himself in, turning to watch Nezumi close his umbrella – large, black – before walking in after him.

            Nezumi said nothing to him as they walked to the counter, and Shion said nothing back as they ordered their coffees then waited for them, Shion fidgeting with the packets of sugar while he listened to Nezumi’s thoughts beside him, which were a combination of relief from the dry warmth of the coffee shop and appraisal of Shion’s own features, taking in his hair again, his eyes, occasionally directly addressing him, such as when he thought –

            _Are you listening to my thoughts right now?_

            “I don’t have a choice,” Shion mumbled, to the packets of brown sugar.

            _Is that so?_

            Their names were called, and Nezumi collected their cups, handed Shion his.

            _The corner table?_

            Shion led the way without replying. It unnerved him, that Nezumi would speak to him like this, inside his own head, in direct addressment. It felt startling, intimate. Even Safu, after Shion had told her what he could do, had never spoken to him inside her head.

            Sitting, Shion wrapped his hands around his cup and looked outside at the rain, listening to Nezumi’s thoughts, not directed at him at first.

            _Warm. Rain in his eyelash. White eyelashes. Sexy. He’s reading my – You’re reading my thoughts._

“Sorry.”

            “It wasn’t an accusation.”

            “It sounded like one,” Shion said, glancing at Nezumi, who rested his chin on his palm, his elbow on the table.

            “You must be used to it.”

            “Used to what?”

            “People thinking about fucking you.”

            Shion looked down at his coffee cup. Unraveled his hands from around it to pick at the cardboard sleeve.

            “People don’t think that.”

            _Liar._

            Shion looked up at him. “Don’t you want to – I don’t know – Ask questions? Aren’t you bothered? Don’t you feel…violated?”

            “Should I?”

            Shion leaned closer to him. “Why would you want to be around me? Why would you want to be around someone who can read your thoughts?”

            Nezumi smiled in a slow way, lips melting upward. “I don’t have secrets,” he said, but in a way that made it quite clear that he did.

            _Trying to read my secrets?_

            “I told you, I can’t turn it on and off,” Shion muttered, disgruntled at his own curiosity.

            _You won’t find them here._

            “Please stop talking to me like that,” Shion said, taking a sip of his coffee, relieved at the heat with which it flooded him.

            “Is it everyone’s mind or am I the only one lucky enough to have the privilege?”

            The rain fell harder, the sound of it battering the windows suddenly and with surprising force.

            “Anyone that I can see. Even if I just see their face through a car window, their leg stepping in a doorway, so long as I can see someone or a part of them, I hear their thoughts.”

            “Close your eyes.”

            Shion did as Nezumi asked.

            _Let’s have sex tonight._

            “You’re the exception,” Shion added, opening his eyes, satisfied that his voice was even. “For some reason. I don’t know why.”

            “So you read my thoughts just now?”

            “Sorry.”

            “I wanted you to read them.”

            Shion looked at the rain hitting the window. “You don’t even know me.”

            “Don’t need to know a person to find them attractive. You’ve read my thoughts on the matter,” Nezumi said.

            “Are you making fun of me?” Shion asked to the window. He liked that the rain fell so hard against it that he could not see anyone at all through it, only obscured masses of colors, moving shapes, mindless blurs.

            “Not at all.”

            “How old are you?”

            “Guess.”

            Shion looked away from the window. The grey eyes were steady on his own, but even looking at Nezumi, Shion heard nothing of his thoughts, wondered if the man really had none, had the ability to stop thinking completely, how strange that was.

            _Are you trying to read my mind?_

            “How do you do that? Stop yourself from thinking. That’s a very hard task, most people subconsciously answer questions in their thoughts even if they don’t wish to share the information.”

            “I’m not most people.”

            “How old are you?” Shion asked again, trying to catch him off guard, listening closely but hearing nothing at all but the sound of laughter in his head, and Nezumi was smirking.

            _Find anything good?_

            “You’re the first person I’ve ever heard laugh in their thoughts.”

            “I’m honored.”  
            “Thoughts are supposed to be uncontrollable. They’re supposed to flit in and out of your head without discipline. But yours…”

            “Thoughts are also supposed to be secret, and here you are, reading them. I don’t think I’m the most unusual person in this conversation,” Nezumi replied, leaning back in his seat, lifting his coffee to his lips.

            Shion didn’t know what to say to this, resorted to his previous topic. “Is there a reason you’re hiding your age from me?”

            _I’m twenty._

            “I’d never hide anything from you. Isn’t that supposed to be impossible?”

            It was supposed to be, but Shion had a feeling Nezumi was hiding a lot, was not just controlling his thoughts but suppressing them, and Shion didn’t know how that was possible, how anyone could do that, why anyone would need to.

            “I’m also twenty,” Shion replied.

            “College student?”

            “I dropped out,” Shion admitted, and he saw the break of Nezumi’s composure in his expression at the same moment he heard it.

            _Dropped out? This kid?_

            “You can’t call me a kid, we’re the same age.”

            “You expect me to believe you dropped out of college? Why would someone like you do that, teenage rebellion?”

            “I’m not a teenager, we’re the same age,” Shion reminded again.

            _Avoiding the question._

            Shion watched Nezumi’s gaze flit over him, more calculating than before.

            _Full of surprises._

            “I’m leaving at the end of the year,” Shion said, turning back to his coffee cup. He ripped at the cardboard sleeve again, small tears, piling the shredded bits beside the cup.

            “Leaving the city? The country? The Earth?”

            “The city. My apartment lease will be up, I’ll be going back home since I’m not in school any longer.”

            _Seriously? College drop-out? Why?_

            Shion didn’t answer because Nezumi didn’t ask.

            To ask in his thoughts was not the same as to ask out loud. And Shion wasn’t sure if these were accidental thoughts or thoughts directed for him to be listening to.

            He didn’t know why the difference mattered.

            “You don’t go to school?” Shion asked, then realized he’d phrased the question oddly.

            He would normally have asked someone his own age what school they attended. He assumed Nezumi did not attend college, though wasn’t sure how he’d come to this conclusion. It was clear that Nezumi was intelligent, or at the very least, well-read when it came to literature.

            “Class would interfere with the time I use to get coffee with stalkers from the library.”

            _Not a rich kid like some people – Shit. You heard that._

            “Sorry,” Shion mumbled, surprised that Nezumi had let a thought slip against his own will.

            Nezumi’s eyes narrowed, and then he was looking at the rain-splattered window, and Shion was content to examine the lines of his profile.

            “Not a big deal.”

            “There are loans,” Shion said, not knowing why he was saying it.

            _Seriously? Shut up._

            “Sorry.”

            “Stop saying sorry.”

            “I’m not used to people knowing I can read their minds,” Shion said, and Nezumi turned from the window.

            He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t think anything, and Shion was able to look at him without having any thoughts but his own.

            It had been four years, since he could look at someone without interruption, and he realized that people’s thoughts had made it impossible to really see them.

            Nezumi, he could really see. He could truly look at.

            Very pale skin. A long face. Thin lips. Long eyelashes that curled. Thick eyebrows, nearly covered by his bangs. Hollow cheeks. And when his eyes slid from the window to Shion again, they were quiet like his mind, grey like they’d stolen the color of the sky from which rain still poured, ruthless, against the window.

            The shadow of the rain-stained window dripped over Nezumi’s face, streaks of dark grey on his light skin.

            _You’re staring._

            “Were you serious about wanting to have sex?”

            _Yes._

“Yes,” Nezumi said, even though he’d thought it, his voice falling against Shion’s ears hardly a second after his thought filled Shion’s head.           

            Shion nodded. His cardboard sleeve was completely shredded, and he pushed the pile of its pieces to the edge of the table, caught it in his palm, let it fall into his coffee cup, empty by now.

            “Okay. My place or yours?”

            “Yours,” Nezumi replied, his eyes squinted.

            _Are you real?_

            Shion didn’t understand the question, and didn’t know if Nezumi meant to ask it or not, so he did not feel guilty ignoring it.

            “Mine,” he confirmed, standing up with his cup, and Nezumi stood up as well.

            Together, they tossed their empty cups into the trash by the door, then walked out into the rampant downpour, Shion feeling the wet of it for only a second before the cover of Nezumi’s umbrella blocked the late afternoon rain from staining his skin.

*

To hear Nezumi’s thoughts during sex was incredible and mortifying.

            Shion closed his eyes several times, forgetting that Nezumi was the exception to his rule. Remembering again immediately, reminded by the voice in his head, Nezumi’s voice in his head, mixed with Nezumi’s breaths, loud in his own ears.

            Nezumi was beautiful. This, Shion was not surprised by. He had been beautiful fully clothed, standing in the library, a book in his hand and his finger gliding over the page.

            He had been beautiful standing in the rain, dry under the cover of his umbrella.

            He had been beautiful sitting across from Shion, his chin in the cup of his palm, the shadow of a rain-splattered window projected over the hollows of his cheeks.

            That he was beautiful now, strewn on Shion’s bed, fully naked, was not unexpected, but it still took Shion’s breath away.

            _Beautiful._

            Shion peeked at Nezumi, lying beside him, chest heaving and sweat plastering strands of his hair to the sides of his face and neck.

            Nezumi was looking down the length of Shion’s body.

            Shion turned his face, pushed his lips into his pillow to hide his smile. He didn’t think Nezumi was thinking deliberately. He thought Nezumi was thinking accidentally, the way most people thought.

            Shion was not in the habit of bringing men to his apartment to sleep with in the late afternoon. He had thought it might be awkward, but it was not.

            It felt natural, to invite Nezumi into his apartment. To offer Nezumi a glass of water, and when Nezumi refused, to take the man to his bedroom, to undress himself before helping Nezumi undress, to listen to Nezumi’s thoughts while they both stood in front of each other naked, to step forward and cup Nezumi’s cheek and let himself be kissed when Nezumi moved closer to him.

            Nezumi kissed him deeply, like he was a cavern to be explored. Shion had felt as if his breath was being pulled out of his body.

            They’d made it to the bed. Kneeled and then laid and then sat up while Shion rummaged in his nightstand drawer, then had to get up, look in his desk drawer, finally finding the lube and condoms he’d packed and then unpacked two and a half weeks before when he’d planned on leaving before remembering his lease. He’d returned to the bed, and they’d had sex twice, maybe would have sex three times, but for now they rested, lying beside each other.

            Shion was not in the habit of having sex with beautiful strangers who thought he was the one who was beautiful, but it felt incredibly natural, and he felt at ease, and it was a relief to feel this way.

            “We could do this again,” he said. He’d had to unbury his lips from his pillow.

            “Give me five minutes.”

            “I meant in the future,” Shion clarified. He looked at Nezumi and watched Nezumi look at him.

            “Already in love with me?”

            “I just meant the sex.”

            Nezumi laughed, and it was the first time Shion heard him laugh out loud rather than in his head.

            He loved it even more. There was a breathiness to it, but maybe it was just because they were both still out of breath.

            “I pegged you as a relationship type, but here you are, asking for only my body.”

            “You shouldn’t make assumptions, you don’t even know me,” Shion replied.

            _Stranger._

            “I’ll only be here for a few more months anyway, there wouldn’t be a point in getting to know each other.”

            “Very rational,” Nezumi replied.

            Shion narrowed his eyes. He’d come to feel entitled to the thoughts of people he looked at, but this was never the case.

            Thoughts did not belong to him, and to feel frustrated not knowing what Nezumi was thinking felt childish and absurd.

            “You don’t have to if you don’t want, I just thought I’d suggest it,” Shion muttered, and Nezumi shifted.

            _Idiot._

            Shion ground his teeth, turned away from Nezumi to stare at the ceiling, but then the mattress was moving under him and Nezumi’s face was in his view.

            _It’d be the topmost honor to be your fuck buddy._

            “I don’t like that term.”

            “Sex pal.”

            “That’s worse,” Shion said, but he couldn’t help but laugh.

            _Cute._

            Shion pressed his hand to his lips, but Nezumi’s hand was moving it, and then Nezumi’s lips were on his.

            He kissed very softly, and Shion lifted his head from his pillow, wanting to feel more of Nezumi than the gentle pressure the man offered.

            _Soft._ _Warm. Nice._

            Nezumi broke away from him. “Are you reading my thoughts?”

            “No,” Shion lied, wanting to be kissed again.

            _Liar._

            Shion smiled. “I can’t help it. Sorry.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re sorry, always sorry,” Nezumi muttered, but despite his disgruntlement, he was kissing Shion again, and Shion was happy to read Nezumi’s thoughts as he did so.

*

By November, Shion had been having sex with Nezumi for a month.

            While sex was the main aspect of their relationship, Shion also liked when Nezumi read, whether it was out loud or silently. Oftentimes, he would lie on Nezumi’s bed in Nezumi’s small apartment, sweat from their previous fucking cooling on his skin, while Nezumi sat up beside him, reading silently to himself in words that slipped straight into Shion’s head.

            _He is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something downright detestable._

Nezumi was an actor at the local playhouse, which Shion had never visited previous to knowing Nezumi. In the month that they’d been having sex, he’d gone to two of Nezumi’s plays.

            Nezumi was an amazing actor. Shion hadn’t told Nezumi he’d gone to see his plays. He didn’t know what Nezumi would think about it, and he didn’t care to know.

            Shion offered to help Nezumi rehearse, but Nezumi refused, saying he had enough rehearsal when his manager demanded it. Occasionally, he read lines from his plays, but more often it was the novels he borrowed from the library that he read to Shion, or rather, to himself, but they both knew Shion would have no choice but to listen.

            _I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet I scare no why. He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity…_

            Only once or twice since the first time, they’d gotten coffee, but both preferred not to. Shion did not have a job, and he knew Nezumi was not well-off, not as much from Nezumi’s thoughts as from his apartment, his scarce possessions, the few articles of clothing Shion knew Nezumi owned.

            Nezumi did not think about money. If he was struggling, it was never in his thoughts.

            In his thoughts instead were observations of Shion’s body, praises and fascinations, because most of the time they spent together was to fuck and nothing else.

            Shion was not looking for more than this. He would be leaving the city in just under two months. He did not know what he would be doing afterward, he did not know what would become of his life, and he considered Nezumi a break from having to think about it.

            Nezumi was a resting period. To be with Nezumi offered the company of another person without having to deal with the hectic nature of most other people’s thoughts.

            Shion saw Nezumi, if not every night, then nearly that. Two nights did not go by in absence of each other.

            _No, sir; I can make no hand of it; I can’t describe him. And it’s not want of memory; for I declare I can see him this moment._

            Nezumi closed the novel, but Shion did not open his eyes. He felt Nezumi’s fingers weave through his hair, a gesture he had become used to, the cool of Nezumi’s fingertips familiar to him by now.

            “Keep going,” Shion protested.

            “I’m exhausted,” Nezumi complained, his fingers leaving Shion’s hair, and Shion felt a shifting of the mattress, peeked at Nezumi to see that Nezumi had lowered down again to lie beside him.

            While they slept together in terms of sex, they did not sleep together in terms of spending the night. Shion pushed himself up by his elbows, then sat up.

            “Let’s go again, I don’t want to leave yet.”

            “You’re killing me,” Nezumi groaned.

            “You’re fine. This is the peak of your sexual prime.”

            _Bullshit._

            Shion stared at Nezumi until the man glanced up at him.

            “Stop staring at me.”

            “Come on,” Shion said, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

            “You don’t have to leave, sleep here if you want. Just leave me alone,” Nezumi muttered, closing his eyes again, and Shion was allowed to stare at him in peace.

            He did so contentedly. He still was not used to being allowed to look at another person without thoughts interrupting his own.

            _Stop staring._

            “I’m not.”

            _Liar._

            “Do you snore?”

            _What the hell are you talking about?_

            “If I’m going to sleep here I need to know if you snore. I’m a light sleeper.”

            _I don’t snore._

            Shion contemplated him, then unwrapped his arms from his legs, laid back down, slid closer to Nezumi because Nezumi had pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed up around him.

            “You have to share the blanket.”

            _Still talking?_

“Shut up,” Nezumi grumbled.

            Shion pulled the blanket until it covered him. He laid on his side, looked at Nezumi’s closed eyelids, the curve of his eyelashes, the slope of his nose, the trickle of his bangs, the part of his lips.

            _Stop staring._

            “I’m not.”

            Shion was half-asleep when he heard Nezumi’s sudden thought, the odd panic in it that jarred him awake.

            _Can you read dreams?_

            Shion opened his eyes, saw that Nezumi’s eyes were open as well.

            “I don’t know,” he admitted.

            Nezumi just stared at him.

            “Do you not want me to read your dreams?” Shion asked.

            _Thought you didn’t have a choice._

            “I don’t.”

            “Then what does it matter what I want?” Nezumi muttered. His voice was heavy, thick with exhaustion.

            “I don’t have to sleep here.”

            Nezumi looked at him a second longer, then closed his eyes.

            _I don’t care._

            “Are you sure?”

            _It doesn’t matter._

            “I can leave.”

            _Stay._

            Shion stayed.

*

Shion discovered that night that he could read dreams.

            He didn’t realize this immediately. Thought he was the one having the nightmare of the burning village, of the shouts, of the cries, of the beautiful grey-eyed people with ink-stained hair and paper-white skin.

            It wasn’t until shouts woke him and he saw that Nezumi was beside him, sweating with strands of his own ink-stained hair stuck to his paper-white skin and his grey eyes wide, that Shion realized that wasn’t his own nightmare he’d been having.

            It was Nezumi’s.        

            _Were you reading my mind?_ Nezumi asked, but interrupting his directed thought were other thoughts, frantic and quick and accidental.

            _Fire. Family. Sister, mother, father, everyone burning, burning, burning._

“No,” Shion said, reaching out to touch him, but Nezumi moved away from him.

            _Liar. Fire. Dead. Alone. Alone. Alone._

Shion opened his lips to whisper – _I’m sorry_ – but he knew Nezumi did not want to hear it.

            Shion was sorry though. These were Nezumi’s secrets, and he had been amazed at Nezumi’s ability to keep his secrets even from his own thoughts, hidden from his own mind.

            Shion supposed that they had to come out sometime, and that was what the nights were for.

            _Fire, burning, pain, mother, mother – Stop!_

“Stop it,” Nezumi hissed. His eyes were closed tight. His hand rose, long fingers weaving in his bangs jerkily, curling around his hair, tight, a fist with white white knuckles.

            The squeeze of Shion’s chest made him want to curl into himself. “I can’t.”

            _I miss them, come back – Shit, Shion!_

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll go,” Shion insisted, apologizing by accident, forcing himself to sit up.

            _Don’t go._

            Shion froze in the midst of untangling the blanket from his legs. “Nezumi – ”          

            He turned to the man, watched Nezumi peek at him from under the hand that clenched his bangs.

            “Get out,” Nezumi said, but the voice inside his head was different.

            _Stay, don’t go, don’t leave me alone._

            “Shit,” Nezumi cursed, pulling his palm down over his eyes.

            Shion hesitated.

            He did not listen to thoughts. He listened to words, because that was what was meant for him to hear, that was what was fair to the person he looked at, the person whose thoughts he was stealing.

            Thoughts weren’t his to hear. He had no right to them.

            “Please leave,” Nezumi said again, his voice tight, and Shion nodded, freed his legs from the blanket that was mostly tangled around Nezumi, slid off the bed, was looking for his clothes and trying to ignore the voice in his head.

            _Come back, it’s cold without you, don’t go, everyone left, don’t go –_

            Shion stumbled pulling on his boxers. Couldn’t get his jeans up his legs, steadied himself with a hand against Nezumi’s wall. He closed his eyes, but of course Nezumi was the exception, of course the voice in his head was not silenced.

            _Please stay, please stay, please come back, so warm –_

            “Don’t read my mind, you asshole,” Nezumi whispered, but he didn’t sound angry, he only sounded exhausted, muffled, and Shion opened his eyes, glanced at him to see that Nezumi had curled himself into a ball.

            _It’s cold now, cold, shivering, burning, fire, family, gone, everyone gone._

            Shion gave up trying to pull on his jeans. Tore them off his feet and walked slowly back to the bed. Kneeled on it, crawled over to Nezumi, touched him and felt him flinch.

            “Did you not hear what I said?” Nezumi snapped, rolling over, staring at Shion, and his eyes were wet, shined in the dim darkness of the tiny room.  

            _Stay, stay, stay, stay._

            “I heard you,” Shion said, and he laid down, wrapped his arms around Nezumi, pressed himself to Nezumi’s back, curled his knees into the backs of Nezumi’s.

            “I don’t want you here,” Nezumi said, but he didn’t move away.

            “I know,” Shion whispered, tucking his lips against the very top of Nezumi’s spine, the pebble of a bone at the base of Nezumi’s neck.

            _Warm. Safe._

            Shion closed his eyes. Felt Nezumi’s body relax in his arms.

            They had been sleeping together for a month. Of course Shion had seen the scars on Nezumi’s back, traced them with the tip of his finger, pressed his lips to the edges of them while Nezumi’s thoughts had been blank, blank, blank.

            Shion didn’t ask about them. They weren’t his business. He and Nezumi were only sleeping together, were only invested in the feel of each other’s bodies, and Shion in the sound of Nezumi’s thoughts in his head, calming, lovely.

            They were not calming tonight. They were racing and rough, they were scattered and broken.

            But Shion didn’t mind so much. Didn’t mind having Nezumi’s nightmares, didn’t mind feeling Nezumi’s fear, hearing Nezumi’s sadness right inside his head.

            It felt right, somehow, that he would feel what Nezumi felt at nights.

            It felt right, that he should stay to restore Nezumi’s calmness, to restore the quiet of his mind that Shion had been taking advantage of – it felt right, that Shion should be responsible for bringing it back, if only until the next night.

*

In the morning, Shion woke feeling as though he was being watched. He kept his eyes closed as he listened to the soft voice in his head.

            _…on shoulder. Pale strip on wrist. Odd. Tanline from watch? Chest moving. Slow. Breathing. Relaxed. Warm. White eyelashes. Pink lips. Want to touch. Kiss. Warm. Soft. Nose. Cute._

            Shion would have listened to Nezumi’s observations for the rest of his life, but he had to pee.

            He opened his eyes, saw Nezumi’s legs, looked up and there was Nezumi, sitting up against the headboard, looking down at him.

            _Awake._

            “Morning.”

            “Morning,” Shion said. “Have you been up long?”

            “No.”

            “You could have woken me if you needed to go anywhere, I don’t usually sleep in. What time is it?” Shion asked, pushing himself up so that he was sitting and looking at his wrist before remembering he’d taken off his watch.

            “Dunno.”

            Shion rubbed at his lips. “I need to pee.”

            “Go pee.”

            Nezumi’s eyes were heavy. His voice soft. Shion had never seen him so early in the morning. Had never seen him on first waking. Had never seen him before seeing anything else in the day.

            He liked it.

            Nezumi’s hair was tussled, almost windswept. The curl of his eyelashes on one side looked jarred, like he’d slept on them in an odd way that bent them slightly. The width of his shoulders didn’t seem as wide as usual, somehow. He was still naked, the blanket up around his waist loosely, one corner by his hips pulled down so Shion could see the curve of his skin into the top of his thigh.

            _Don’t pee in my bed._

            Shion smiled without meaning to. Shuffled off the bed and went to the bathroom, small and cramped, peed and stared only at the wall above the toilet, washed his hands and looked around at the white bar of soap, only a sliver now, and the green toothbrush. A few bristles stuck out oddly, like Nezumi brushed his teeth roughly enough to jar them.

            Shion stole a drop of toothpaste from the nearly flat tube. Rubbed his forefinger over his teeth, looked at himself in the mirror, caught a crease in his cheek from the pillowcase that he pressed with his fingers of the hand not brushing his teeth.

            He rinsed his mouth, his tongue still feeling sticky, and left the bathroom.

            Nezumi was no longer on the bed. The apartment was small, mostly one room without any doors but the front door and the bathroom door, so that Shion could see straight into he kitchen area from where he stood.

            Nezumi stood at the stove, his back to Shion.

            There were no thoughts in his head at all, but he was humming softly.

            Shion looked at the bare of his back, the lines of his shoulder blades, the blemish of his scar, like a stain on his skin.

            He walked to the kitchen, stood beside Nezumi, let his arm brush Nezumi’s only lightly, watched Nezumi pull the strings off the teabags before he tossed one each into two empty mugs.

            “What are you doing today?”

            “Rehearsal at noon.” Nezumi shifted the kettle so it sat more centrally over the stove.

            The clock on the microwave said it was five minutes to eleven.

            They didn’t speak while the water in the kettle boiled, and Shion liked the silence. Occasionally, one of Nezumi’s thoughts flitted through his head.

            _Need to find script book._

_Almost out of teabags._

_Raining._

            Shion looked out the window above the kitchen sink. The rain was light, a faint drizzle.

            Nezumi’s kettle was old, one of the kettles that whistled when the water boiled, and the whistle was sharp in the quiet of the kitchen.

            Shion watched Nezumi turn off the stove, pour water into both mugs, slide one to Shion, who took it, letting his fingers brush Nezumi’s as he did so.

            _Warm._

            Shion cupped his hands around his mug, the heat from it slipping into his palms, up his wrists, along his arms, into his chest, settling there.

            They drank their tea in silence, first letting it cool, then tentative sips. Shion heard when Nezumi burnt his tongue.

            _Ah, shit, hot, dammit._

            Nezumi’s apartment didn’t have a kitchen table, didn’t even have stools at the counter. There was no couch. Shion didn’t mind. He didn’t need to sit. They stood against the stove, and then Nezumi had to get dressed, and Shion turned in order to watch him move around the small space, search for jeans, smell a pair, determine it fine, search for a shirt, search for socks.

            When Nezumi disappeared into the bathroom, Shion listened to his thoughts.

            _Hair’s a mess. No time for shower. Braid. Tired. Skip rehearsal. Can’t. Money. Rent due. Shit. Check coffee can._

            Shion glanced behind him at the coffee can sitting next to the stove. He pulled it to him, opened it.

            There was a wad of bills inside, folded and held together by a rubber band.

            Shion replaced the lid of the coffee can, pushed it back to its original place.

            He continued drinking his tea, and Nezumi’s thoughts were more quiet again, the way they usually were.

            Calming.         

            Nezumi came out of the bathroom, his hair in a side braid that Shion wanted to run his fingers along, feel the bumps of, feel the creases where a section of hair disappeared beneath the curve of another.

            Shion had washed their mugs, had put on his shoes, and followed Nezumi out his apartment, down the three flights of stairs, through the small lobby, out into the rain that had let up now, was more a mist than anything, a cool sheen of crisp sky that coated his cheeks.

            Shion’s apartment was past the theater, so he walked with Nezumi, and at the street where Nezumi had to turn away from him, Nezumi leaned down to kiss him.

            The kiss was surprising. Shion felt the cool of Nezumi’s lips, wet from the mist.

            “See you,” Nezumi said, and then he was walking away.

            Shion looked after him, wanting to hear his thoughts, but there was nothing, and then Shion accidentally looked at a man walking his dog, and a voice filled his head that he didn’t want.

            Shion closed his eyes. Didn’t want any voice in his head but Nezumi’s, and this was something new.

            Before Nezumi, Shion hadn’t wanted any voice in his head but his own.

*

December came with snow, hard packed clumps that fell quickly and sharply.

            Nezumi’s face was red from it, when Shion opened his apartment door to let him in.

            Shion reached up, pressed his palms to the hollows of Nezumi’s cheeks. The cool of Nezumi’s skin startled him.

            _Warm._

            “You’re freezing,” Shion chastised, as if the weather was Nezumi’s fault.

            Nezumi’s hands wrapped around Shion’s wrists, pressed Shion’s hands harder to his face.

            Nezumi’s palms were cold, and Shion flinched from their touch.

            “You’re warm.”

            “Are you hungry? I have soup,” Shion offered.

            _Yes._

            “No.”

            “Come on.” Shion dropped his hands from Nezumi’s cheeks, and Nezumi let go of one of his wrists, held onto the other and followed Shion into his kitchen.

            He let go when Shion reached up for bowls. Shion took two even though he wasn’t particularly hungry, but he knew Nezumi wouldn’t eat if he didn’t eat with him.

            Nezumi had opened the lid of the pot on the stove, was smelling it, and Shion watched the smoke rise from it and coat Nezumi’s face.

            _Warm. Smells good. Hungry._

            “Move,” Shion said, pushing him, ladling soup for both of them, filling Nezumi’s bowl more than his and sliding it towards him.

            Nezumi got two spoons for them, and they sat on the stools at Shion’s kitchen counter.

            “How was your show?”

            Nezumi ruffled his fingers quickly through his bangs. Melted snow scattered off in drops.

            “Hardly half the seats were filled. The weather is too shitty for anyone to come out.”

            They sipped their soup. Shion watched Nezumi thaw across the counter from him.

            _How was your day?_

            “Let’s not talk about me,” Shion proposed.

            When he wasn’t with Nezumi, he felt restless again. Aimless. Unsure.

            He shouldn’t have dropped out of college. He didn’t know what he was doing. He felt lost until Nezumi was there again to fill his afternoons with the calm of his thoughts, the ease of his presence.

            Nezumi shrugged.

            _Something’s wrong. Been wrong. He’s not okay._

            Shion stared at his soup. He knew Nezumi’s thoughts hadn’t been meant for him to hear, he knew Nezumi couldn’t help himself from worrying about him, from thinking about him even when Shion didn’t want to think about himself at all.

            “I am okay,” Shion told his soup.

            “Don’t read my thoughts if you don’t want to hear them.”

            “I can’t stop myself.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

            _Dropped out of college. Why?_

            “Nezumi.”

            “Look, I can’t stop my thoughts.”

            “Except that you can. I know you can. So try harder,” Shion said, looking up from his soup, his voice harder than he’d intended.

            Nezumi’s eyebrows raised. He lifted his spoon to his lips. Lowered it again.

            _Is that better?_

            “Yeah, thanks,” Shion muttered. He knew he had no reason to be mad at Nezumi. He couldn’t help it.

            Nezumi was his relief. Was a break. The way closed eyes used to be, now there was Nezumi, a rest from everything else, an escape.

            Shion tilted his bowl to his lips, drank the rest, then stood up, placed his bowl too hard in the sink and turned the faucet on hot while he washed it so that his hands were pink by the time he finished.

            _Too hot. Burning._

            Nezumi was beside him, turning the knob of the faucet to cool the water down. Steam rose out the sink.

            “It wasn’t too hot.” Shion watched Nezumi wash his own bowl.

            “Your hands are red.”

            “They’re pink.”

            _Idiot._

            Shion shoved his hands in his pockets.

            “You know, if you wanted, you could talk to me,” Nezumi suggested, his voice light, but Shion could hear his thoughts, more serious inside his head.

            _It might help._

            “Let’s just have sex, all right?” Shion said, freeing a hand from his pocket to turn off the faucet because Nezumi had placed his bowl and spoon in the drying rack.

            _Avoiding._

            “That’s why you come over, right? To have sex? So can we just do that?” Shion insisted.

            “All right, calm down, no need to beg.”

            “Don’t tell me to calm down,” Shion snapped, walking away from Nezumi, taking off his shirt on the way to the bedroom.

            He pulled off his sweats and boxers, was waiting on his bed when Nezumi finally walked into the room.

            _I’m a distraction._

            “Does that bother you?” Shion asked, watching Nezumi pull off his own clothing.

            “That you read my thoughts without my permission?”

            “That I’m using you as a distraction,” Shion said, not reminding Nezumi that he couldn’t help reading his thoughts because Nezumi knew this.

            If he was bothered by Shion’s ability to read his thoughts, he wouldn’t have kept showing up.

            “Not at all,” Nezumi said, stripped completely, grabbing a condom from Shion’s nightstand and ripping it open as he joined Shion on the bed.

            Shion liked Nezumi. He liked how Nezumi made him feel – relaxed, calm, desired. He liked that Nezumi made him laugh. He liked how beautiful Nezumi was. He liked talking to Nezumi, that Nezumi could be rude, that Nezumi could be sarcastic, that Nezumi could be blunt, that Nezumi could be gentle. He liked that Nezumi was honest and he liked that Nezumi lied.

            He liked that he felt he could be himself around Nezumi, like there was nothing else he had to be, no potential to fill, no expectations to live up to – that he as himself at that moment was enough, more than enough, everything he ever needed to be.

            Shion knew this was not altogether a good thing. That it was important to be valued, but it was just as important to strive to be better, to aim for more, for improvement, to resist the ease of being stagnant.

            But Nezumi made it easy to forget that there was anywhere else Shion needed to be, that there was anything else Shion needed to be doing.

            Shion liked Nezumi a lot, but he knew what he was doing with Nezumi wasn’t going to last.

            It wasn’t supposed to. He’d be leaving the city in a few weeks, he’d be returning home, he wouldn’t see Nezumi again.

            What they did was physical, nothing more than that.

            Shion liked Nezumi, but he knew better than to feel anything else.

*

After sex, they sat beside each other on Shion’s bed, Nezumi reading silently and Shion listening to him.

            _What with mothers and lovers, what with the prohibitions they were not conditioned to obey, what with the temptations and the lonely remorses, what with all the diseases and the endless isolating pain, what with the uncertainties and the poverty – they were forced to feel strongly._

            Nezumi liked classic literature, so Shion checked out books of that genre in order to have a stack ready for when Nezumi came over, knowing Nezumi would stray to the books after sex, pick one up, read it without seeming to notice that it was Shion’s plan all along.

            “Will you stay over the night?” Shion asked, while Nezumi flipped through the pages.

            On books he’d read before, Nezumi liked to skip over pages, choose passages at random so that Shion would listen to him without any idea as to what was happening.

            He didn’t mind this. It allowed him to pay attention only to Nezumi’s voice, with the plot a senseless tangle, with the characters unknown to him.

            … _calm your anger, to reconcile you to your enemies, to make you patient and long-suffering. In the past you could only accomplish these things by making a great effort and after years of hard moral training._

            “Don’t know. Probably,” Nezumi said, flipping more pages. “What do you think of this book?”

            They spent the night at each other’s apartment more often than not. It was easier, with the weather increasingly cold, than leaving in the middle of the night.

            Nezumi still had nightmares, and Shion shared each one with the man. They were more or less the same. Memories more than nightmares. One memory of one night that Nezumi relived, and Shion began living with him.

            “I haven’t read it,” Shion admitted.

            “It’s been in your apartment for a week.”

            Shion shrugged. He didn’t read so much anymore. It wasn’t the same as listening to Nezumi read. It wasn’t as satisfying. Just black ink on white pages. Just syllables without sound.

            “Shion.”

            “Hm?” Shion closed his eyes. Leaned his cheek on Nezumi’s shoulder. He liked when Nezumi’s hair tickled his skin.

            “How far is home?”

            Shion opened his eyes. Tried to make sense of the words in his head.

            “What?”

            “You’re going home when your lease is up. How far is that?”

            Shion closed his eyes again. They never talked about this. The future.

            _How far will we be from each other?_

            “A couple hours. Four hours,” Shion admitted.

            _Oh. Far._

            Shion heard the disappointment. Tried to ignore it, because these were Nezumi’s thoughts, and he could tell this was not one of Nezumi’s directed thoughts that Nezumi was purposefully thinking just for Shion to read.

            It was an accidental thought, and those didn’t count, weren’t supposed to count.

            “You knew I was leaving.”

            “Of course.”

            “This was just for sex anyway.”

            “I’m well aware.”

            “Did you want more?” Shion asked, the thought only just occurring to him, and he sat up from Nezumi’s shoulder, looked up at him, saw that Nezumi was still looking at the book he flipped through, going backwards in the pages now.

            His hair was freed from behind his ear, shielded most of his profile but the tip of his nose, a bit of his chin, the part of his pale lips.

            _Never put off till to-morrow the fun you can have to-day._

            More pages flipped.

            _Every one works for every one else. We can’t do without any one._

            Nezumi shut the book.

            “It was convenient. It’ll be tedious to have to find someone else as kinky as you,” Nezumi said, smiling in the light way he sometimes did, where it seemed more like air than lips turning up.

            “I’m not kinky,” Shion said, but he was listening for Nezumi’s thoughts.

            There were none. Nezumi’s mind was quiet, and so was Shion’s, empty of Nezumi’s voice, hollow of its sound, lovely and calming.

            “Liar,” Nezumi said, putting the book down, turning to Shion and kissing him, and Shion let himself be kissed, first just along the skin of his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his lips, then the bridge of his nose, then down to his chin, then the other corner of his lips.

            Shion moved an inch, caught Nezumi’s lips with his own, kissed the man properly, allowed Nezumi to pull him back down on the bed so that they were lying beside each other, and then Nezumi was over him, and Shion was able to breathe while Nezumi got up again to grab another condom from the nightstand.

            The thoughts Nezumi had when they had sex were always sensory, about Shion and only Shion, about his skin and lips, about the feeling of them, about what Nezumi wanted to do so Shion never had to ask, about a new position so Shion was one step ahead, about a direction so Shion knew how to move, where to put his hands, his lips, his legs, his hips.

            There were never interruptions to Nezumi’s thoughts, never distractions. The voice in Shion’s head never strayed, and Shion loved this, the concentration Nezumi gave him, the attention, the focus.       

            That night, Nezumi’s thoughts only strayed once, and so quickly Shion wasn’t sure if he imagined the words in his head or not.

            _Don’t leave._

            Nezumi did not acknowledge the thought, and so Shion didn’t either.

            He listened instead to where Nezumi wanted Shion to bite down on his skin, did so and felt the soft roll of Nezumi’s flesh between his teeth, bit harder until Nezumi’s curse hissed both in his ears and his head, spoken and thought in unison, an echoed syllable of pain and pleasure.

*

On the night before Shion left, Nezumi sat on his bed and watched Shion pack.

            Every so often, his thoughts would slip through.

            _Stay._

            _Don’t leave._

            _Stop packing._

            “Nezumi,” Shion said, exhausted from packing, sitting in front of his suitcase with a pair of socks in his hand and staring up at Nezumi.

            “What?”

            “Stop thinking that stuff.”

            “I’m not thinking anything.”

            “I can hear your thoughts,” Shion reminded, though they both knew there was no need for a reminder.

            “Stop listening,” Nezumi grumbled, but he got off the bed, and at first Shion thought he was going to leave.

            Instead, Nezumi disappeared from Shion’s bedroom only to return a minute later with a book in his hand.

            “That’s a good idea,” Shion said, and Nezumi glared at him as he sat back down on Shion’s bed.

            As Shion resumed packing, Nezumi’s voice was back in his head, this time more clearly, loudly, certainly.

            _It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us…_

            Shion continued packing. Finished with the bedroom, moved to the kitchen, and while Nezumi did not move from the bed, his voice in Shion’s head was as clear as it had been.

            _A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other._

            In the bathroom, Shion peed before packing up his toiletries, though he didn’t have many.

            _The hands of the man who sawed the wood, left red marks on the billets; and the forehead of the woman who nursed her baby, was stained with the stain of the old rag she wound about her head again._

            The living room was easy to pack up, as was the closet in the hallway.

            _Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms._

            Shion returned to his room, grabbed his suitcase, dragged it to the front of his apartment so that leaving the next morning would be easier. He set about the apartment, picking up the filled cardboard boxes – there were only three – and stacking them by his suitcase. The furniture had never been his; he had leased the apartment already furnished.

            Shion returned to his room again to find Nezumi flipping to the end of the novel he held. Shion would have to remember to take it to the library before he left, or he supposed he could ask Nezumi to return it for him.

            _It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest I go to than I have ever known._

            Nezumi closed the book and looked up at Shion, who leaned against his doorframe, still catching his breath from lugging around his cardboard boxes.

            He could pack his car tonight, have Nezumi help him left the boxes down to the garage where his car was parked so that to leave the next morning would be simple, but he had a feeling Nezumi would refuse to help.

            “I always wanted to read that book,” Shion said, nodding to it where Nezumi had placed it on the bed beside him.

            “Pretty sure you still have time.”

            “I still probably won’t read it,” Shion replied.

            Nezumi stood up, and Shion watched him stretch before he stepped away from the bed.

            “You’re not leaving, are you?” Shion asked. He had assumed Nezumi would spend the night.

            “You should rest, you have a long drive tomorrow.”

            “Four hours isn’t long.”

            _Of course it is._

            Shion didn’t know if the thought was directed at him or accidental.

            He thought about proposing that they meet up. Not frequently, but once or twice a month.  

            But that wouldn’t make sense. They’d just been having sex. It hadn’t been anything more, and to keep in contact for just that felt odd, unnecessary.

            “Guess I won’t be seeing you.”

            Shion hadn’t realized Nezumi had walked all the way up to him, was standing in front of him.

            Shion looked up. Listened to Nezumi’s thoughts as he watched Nezumi’s gaze flicker over his face.

            _White eyelashes. Incredible. Pink lips. Cute._ _Scar._

            Nezumi’s fingers traced the scar on Shion’s cheek, and Shion leaned into Nezumi’s touch.

            “What will you do?” Nezumi asked, and Shion didn’t know what he meant at first until he heard the thought that accompanied the question.

            _College drop-out._

            “I don’t know,” Shion said. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want Nezumi to think about it because that meant he had to think about it too. “I’ll figure it out. I might enroll somewhere else, do online classes, I don’t know.”

            Shion turned his head until his lips pressed against the bottom of Nezumi’s palm, but Nezumi moved his hand, and then Nezumi was kissing him.

            _Soft. Warm. I’ll miss this. Miss you._

            Nezumi broke from him. “Sorry,” Nezumi said, and the apology was unexpected.

            Nezumi was not the one who apologized for his accidental thoughts.

            It was Shion, who apologized for reading them.

            “It’s fine,” Shion said, but it wasn’t. It hurt, something hurt, he wasn’t sure what. His chest. There was a squeezing there.

            “I’ll go,” Nezumi said, and he was stepping away from Shion, and Shion heard his thoughts but tried not to, closed his eyes and didn’t want to hear more.

            He kept hearing them even as he heard Nezumi leave the apartment. Even after the door closed behind Nezumi. Even when he was sure Nezumi had to be in the elevator, or taking the stairs. Even after that, Nezumi must have been in the lobby by now, on the street by now, walking away from Shion’s apartment, but his voice was still inside Shion’s head.

            _Don’t leave, I don’t want you to leave, stay, everyone left, shit, shit, Shion, stay, it hurts, shit, I hate this, what the fuck –_

            Shion opened his eyes. At least five minutes had passed since Nezumi had walked out of the apartment, but Shion still heard him, and he walked through his apartment just to make sure the man was not still in there, then walked out the door, looked in the hallway, went to the stairwell, called Nezumi’s name and received no reply.

            Nezumi had to be gone, but his voice wasn’t, and Shion thought he might go insane for it.

            When would it leave?

            Shion returned to his apartment. Returned to his bedroom. Saw _A Tale of Two Cities_ on his bed and realized he’d forgotten to ask Nezumi to return it.

            _Fuck, this hurts, gone, alone, stay, don’t leave –_

            Shion picked it up, left his room again, grabbed his jacket and shoved his feet in his shoes and left his apartment.

            Outside was cold. Not snowing, but there was snow on the ground from that morning. The whipped struck his cheeks and slipped down the chest of his jacket.

            He pulled up his zipper.

            _He’s gone, he’s gone –_

            “Please stop, Nezumi,” Shion whispered. He wondered if he would carry Nezumi’s voice in his head forever. He wondered why it wasn’t gone.

            Shion took the bus. Stood by the doors and clutched the book in his hands and stared at people in the bus so that their thoughts would crowd his head.

            He looked at many people at once. Voices filled his head. He could hardly make out anything. Underneath them all was Nezumi’s voice, but he couldn’t focus on it.

            He left the bus. Stared at people on the street, as many people as he could at once, all the way to the library, and then he was in front of the book depository bin.

            Shion looked at it, and every voice in his head was silenced.

            He slid his book into the slot. Nezumi’s voice was gone as well, washed away with the others.

            There was nothing left.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops I meant to do this the first time around...i usually don't cite stuff but i also usually don't take so much content from stuff. also i figured some people might like the quotes and be interested! and so, here are the novel excerpts that appear in this chapter in order of appearance:
> 
> Dracula by Bram Stoker  
> The Call of the Wild by Jack London  
> Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson  
> Brave New World by Aldous Huxley  
> A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens


	2. Chapter 2

Shion came back from the gym to find Safu in his mother’s bakery.

            When he hugged her, she squirmed in his arms, laughing and pushing him away.

            “You reek!”

            “Sorry, I was at the gym. I didn’t know you’d be here, I thought you’d be working during winter break.”

            “I wanted to see you,” Safu said, smiling lightly. “And Merry Christmas.”

            _Seems okay, happy even, possibly release of endorphins from work-out, depression not always a visible manifestation –_

            “Merry Christmas. I’m not depressed,” Shion said, looking away from her and leading Safu through the bakery to the stairs at the back, up the stairs to his room.       

            “I told you not to read my mind.”

            “And I told you I can’t help it.”

            “You dropped out of college,” Safu said, as Shion led her to his room.

            He didn’t walk in after her. “Let me shower, give me five minutes.”

            “Feel free to take longer,” Safu said.  

            Shion watched her walk to his desk, touch the stack of library books he’d gotten the day before.

            _Dracula. A Tale of Two Cities. Classic literature. Distractions. Avoidance. Escapism._

            Shion turned away to be free from Safu’s psychoanalysis.

            He showered in hot water, watching his skin turn pink. He had left the city two days before. His lease was technically not up until the new year, but Shion always spent Christmas at the bakery.

            Shion stayed in the shower longer than five minutes. The room filled with smoke. When Shion turned off the spray and pulled the curtain back, his image in the mirror was a blur of shape and color and nothing else.

            He stepped forward, dripping on the mat and the tile floor around it. Wiped his hand across the mirror, revealed a less blurred version of his face, but even so, he could not make out his own expression.

            He grabbed his towel, dried himself, and wrapped it around his waist. Cool air chilled his skin the second he opened the bathroom door. He walked back to his room, shivering, and found Safu reading at his desk.

            _All that most madden and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought –_

            Safu shut the book, and Shion looked away from her before he had to read her thoughts.

            “I never could get into classic literature. I find it dry. Even when there is grand adventure, it gets bogged down by the internal monologues of characters. There’s no mystery to the characters with their thoughts all laid out on the page for one to read.”

            Shion did not point out the irony. “Turn around so I can dress.”

            “My eyes are closed,” Safu said, and Shion peeked at her before pulling off his towel.

            _Pink skin, too-hot shower?_

            Shion resisted the urge to assure her he was fine as he looked away from her.

            His skin was still damp. He stepped into a pair of boxers, pulled it up to his waist, wiped the back of his hand over his back and found it wet.

            He pulled on a t-shirt anyway, feeling the fabric stick to his skin. He was hot.

            “Tell me why you dropped out.”

            “I told you why.”

            “You could do online classes.”

            “Safu, I don’t want to talk about this. Not right now, it’s Christmas.”

            Safu was quiet. Shion was careful not to look at her. Sat on the edge of his bed and pulled his knees up to his chest, his bare heels digging into the edge of the mattress.

            He looked at his toes. His scar on one foot. He reached out, touched it with the tip of his finger.

            Thought about Nezumi, who’d unearthed a measuring tape from Shion’s kitchen drawer one night, proceeded it wind it around Shion’s body, starting at his cheek, ending at his foot, the end of one long finger holding it down against the end of Shion’s scar, his dark hair falling over his face as he bent over, nose so close to Shion’s foot that Shion had laughed.

            “You’re so intelligent, Shion. I don’t know what it’s like being forced to read the minds of everyone you look at, but there are ways around it. You want to work in a lab, you wouldn’t be around people if you were involved in research.”

            Shion trailed his fingertip up his scar. Along his ankle, the bone there that stuck out, the bone Nezumi had kissed. Around his calf.

            Safu’s sigh was resigned. “Are you dressed?”

            “Yes.”

            Shion knew she would be looking at him now, and he took his finger from his scar.

            “You’re not dressed.”

            “I am.”

            “You’re not wearing pants.”

            “It’s hot.” Shion tucked his forehead against his knees. The hot water of the shower had tired him. His body was heavy.

            “If you were looking at me and reading my mind right now, you’d see I’m very concerned for you.”

            “Why?” Shion asked the space between his knees and his chest. It was dark there. An easy space to speak to.        

            “You’re acting oddly.”

            “I’m not.”

            “It is Nezumi?”

            The bakery was closed today, as it was Christmas day. Even so, Shion’s mother had prepared pies for her friends in the town, was out delivering them now, would linger at the houses of the people she saw every day in the bakery, catching up even though they’d only just spoken the day before and they would speak again tomorrow.

            “We were just having sex,” Shion said.

            “Just because I can’t read your mind doesn’t give you permission to lie to me. We’ve always given each other the truth.”

            The truth.

            Shion’s head felt empty without Nezumi’s voice. He wanted it back. There was no break from his restlessness. There was no calm. He couldn’t get it back.

            He closed his eyes, didn’t feel better.

            “I don’t want to read minds,” Shion admitted.

            It wasn’t the truth Safu had asked for, but it was the truth, one Shion hadn’t given her before.

            It was a gift to read minds. It was a miracle. He could do incredible things with it. Become a doctor, help patients who didn’t know what symptoms were important or how to word the symptoms they felt. He could become a therapist, help people uncover the truths they kept secret from themselves. He could become a foreign correspondent, a diplomat, learn the plans of other countries, come to agreements, facilitate compromises.

            He could do incredible things. He had so much potential.

            But to listen to thoughts was crippling. He didn’t want to. That was the truth.

            The weight of everyone’s thoughts was too much for him to bear. He could not handle a city, a college campus.

            How could he handle a country? How could he handle the world?

            The mattress sank beside him. Safu’s hand was warm on his shoulder.

            “I know you don’t. I’ve always known that. You don’t have to feel guilty for that.”

            Shion often thought Safu was the one who should have been able to read minds. It was as if she had the ability already.

            “Even before you could read minds, you were always too empathetic for your own good. Of course it would overwhelm you. You shouldn’t ever feel bad for that, Shion. It only shows how big a heart you have, how much you care about other people.”

            Shion’s eyes burned. He felt everything at once. “I disappointed you. I disappointed my mom.”

            He hadn’t let himself think about it. He’d read books. He’d met Nezumi.

            He’d dropped out of college. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was not restless, he was lost.

            He was crying. Arms tight around his legs. Forehead hard into his knees so that it hurt. Eyes closed tight.

            Safu’s arms were around him. She was incredibly warm, her body light.

            Shion had become used to Nezumi’s weight. He was heavier. His arms stronger. Longer. The tips of his fingers often cool, almost chilly on Shion’s skin when the rest of him was warm.

            “You didn’t disappoint anyone. Shion, look at me.”

            Shion’s breath was uneven, hitched on a ridge in his throat. He looked up from his knees, released his legs, his heels slipping off the edge of the mattress and his feet falling flat and abruptly on his carpet.

            Shion rubbed at his eyes. Blinked at Safu, her face blurry, her concern clear.

            _Sad. Ache. Love. Shion. Best friend, upset. Hurts. It hurts. Crying. Stay strong. Comfort him. Everything will be okay._

“Everything will be okay.” Safu’s hand cupped Shion’s cheek, and Shion leaned into her palm.

            It was warm, softer than Nezumi’s palm. Her skin was almost doughy.

            “We love you. Your mom and I could never be disappointed in you. We love you so much. You’re our family.”

            _Family. Love. Care. Support him. Help him. Sad. Ache, ache, ache._

            Shion closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

            He felt Safu’s breath before her skin, her forehead against his, the tip of her nose touching his.

            “Sorry for what? You are the most incredible person I have ever known. That is why you are my best friend. It has nothing to do with your intelligence, it has nothing to do with your mind reading. It is your heart that I admire. It is your heart that I love.”

            Shion breathed in gasps. Nodded against his friend’s forehead. She used to do this when he first started mind reading. Press her forehead right to his, have him close his eyes, calm him down when the thoughts of everyone else became too much, gave him migraines, splitting headaches that were unbearable, that he’d had to hide from everyone else because if he told anyone he was a mind reader, they’d think he was crazy.

            Not Safu. She had not doubted him, even before he’d proven it to her. She had believed him. She had taken care of him.

            “I know you’re scared. And you might not think it now, but I know whatever your future is, whatever you do, it will be amazing. Do you trust me?”

            “Yes.” Shion evened out his breathing. Matched his breaths to Safu’s. Kept his eyes closed and focused on the contact of her forehead against his.

            Shion broke away from her only when the shake of his breaths had ceased. Safu got off the bed, returned with a box of tissues, and Shion took it, careful not to look at her, knowing she wouldn’t be offended, knowing she would understand.

            When he’d first been able to read minds, Shion would wear a blindfold when he spent time with Safu. Even before closed eyes, she had been his break. His respite.

            He had forgotten that, couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that.

            “Will you tell me the truth about Nezumi now?” Safu asked, and Shion laughed.

            He held wadded tissues in his hands.

            “I liked him.”

            Shion knew Safu was examining him. Psychoanalyzing him. The extent of her studies – which were consuming and advanced – focused utterly on him and what he might have felt for Nezumi.

            “Define like.”

            Shion let himself fall back onto his bed, his legs still hooked over the edge. He looked up at his ceiling, but didn’t see it.

            He pictured Nezumi, and it was simple to do so.

            “I liked being around him.”

            “He was fun,” Safu suggested.

            Shion laughed again, felt the mattress depress around him, knew without turning that Safu laid beside him. “I don’t think I’d say that.”

            “He wasn’t fun?”

            “I just don’t know that I’d use that word.”

            “What word would you use?”

            Shion closed his eyes. Saw in the darkness of his eyelids Nezumi’s smile, wide and unexpected, breaking into laughter – rare, for him, but not unfamiliar.

            He saw the grey eyes. Calculating. Soft. Heavy.

            Nezumi’s lips when he read, moving carefully.

            Nezumi’s hair falling from behind his ears when he hovered over Shion, when he leaned down to kiss him.

            Nezumi’s elbows, pointed at the tip, bony.

            Nezumi’s neck, blemished by a bite mark that would match Shion’s teeth, if he lined them up.

            Nezumi’s eyelashes, long and curled but for where they’d been smashed at the corner from the weight of his head on the pillow at night.

            Nezumi’s smirk.

            Nezumi’s fingers, tapping over Shion’s torso when he admitted that he could play the piano, but they didn’t have a piano, so Shion offered his skin as the keys.

            “Shion.”

            Shion opened his eyes. Saw the ceiling of his room. He was four hours from Nezumi, but it was more than that.

            It was the rest of his life. Nezumi was just a person from his past.

            “Sorry, what did you say?” Shion asked. He was pretty sure Safu had asked him a question he couldn’t recall.

            “I asked you what word you would use for Nezumi. Not the way you described him on our phone calls. I know what he looks like, I know that he’s sarcastic, I know that he likes to read, I know that he’s guarded, I know that he’s a great lover, I know all of that. I don’t want a description. I want a feeling. What do you feel about him?”

            Shion didn’t need to think about it. “I miss him.” He shook his head against the mattress. “It’s a normal response. I spent time with him nearly every day for the past three months. It will take time to become accustomed to the absence of him.”

            “You don’t have to be logical about everything.”

            “I dropped out of college,” Shion reminded.

            “A logical decision when being on a city campus was overwhelming you and giving you mental break-downs due to the overpowering nature of the thoughts of thousands of people inside your head,” Safu said, her fingers jostling Shion’s. “You’re being abnormally analytical about your break up.”

            Shion linked his pinky with hers. “Abnormal to whose standards? And we didn’t break up. We weren’t together.”

            “All right, Shion.”

            “We weren’t. We were just having – ”

            “Sex. I’ve heard. Your denial is fascinating and rather unlike you.”

            Shion groaned. “Safu.”

            “All right, all right, I’ll play along and pretend your boyfriend wasn’t your boyfriend. Besides, we should head downstairs and wait for your mother. She should be back soon.”

            “Did you say boyfriend?” Shion asked, in shock at the word in reference to Nezumi. The mattress shifted beside him, and he could tell Safu had gotten up, her pinky gone from his.

            He felt Safu’s hand around his wrist, and then he was pulled up, looking at her.

            _In love? Possible. Pupils not dilated. No blush. Pulse –_

            Shion laughed, pulled his wrist free from Safu’s probing fingers after he was standing.

            “Don’t bother checking my pulse, it’s not racing.” Shion pulled on a pair of jeans before leading them to his door.

            “I’d still like to check. I don’t believe that I can trust you on this matter.”

            “Come on,” Shion said, catching her hand back in his, pulling on her fingers, leading her down the stairs, and as he did so, seeing his mother outside the bakery windows, walking towards the door.

            _Lovely weather, not too chilly. Hope Shion is back from gym. Will make his favorite, cherry pie._

            Shion met his mother at the door as she opened it, smiled at the love in her voice in his head.

            _Shion._

            “Shion. Merry Christmas, honey.”

            Shion let go of Safu’s fingers to return his mother’s hug.

            He closed his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Mom. I love you.”

            The shame he’d felt since dropping out, the guilt he’d felt since returning home – it wasn’t gone.

            But it was easier to shoulder. It was bearable.

            And today, on Christmas, Shion let himself feel only warmth and love, and forget the future, and forget the past.

*

It was harder to forget the past than the future.

            Harder, specifically, to forget Nezumi.

            He would be spending Christmas alone. The idea struck Shion as he was cleaning up after dinner at Safu’s grandmother’s house, where he and his mother spent every Christmas.

            “What’s wrong?” Safu asked.

            She stood beside him, drying the dishes Shion handed to her.

            Suds dragged slowly down the plate in his hands.

            “Nothing.”

            “I find this new lying habit of yours rather tedious.”

            “I think Nezumi is spending Christmas alone.”

            “What about his family?”

            “He doesn’t have any.”

            “You should call him then.” As if it were simple. As if that could be justified.

            “I can’t.”

            “Does he have a phone?”

            “Yes.” It was new. He’d gotten it on the first of December, his first phone. Shion had sat beside him on Nezumi’s bed, laughing at how slowly Nezumi texted, his fingers losing their usual gracefulness over the buttons.

            “Then you can call him. Go on, I’ll finish cleaning up. Use my room so Grandma and your mom don’t interrupt you.”

            Shion wasn’t going to call him.

            “I’m not going to call him.”

            There were no more suds on the plate. Shion handed it to Safu, picked up a lid of a pot, pushed the sponge in his hand against it in slow circles.

            “If he’s spending Christmas alone, I don’t see what he’d be busy with.”

            “We broke up.” Shion held the lid underneath the steady stream from the faucet.

            “I thought you weren’t together.”

            “You know what I mean.”

            “I don’t, actually, I don’t fully understand your relationship with Nezumi.”

            “Casual sex.”

            “Yes, I know your opinions on it, and I have already informed you of my certainty that your account is not entirely accurate.”

            Shion handed her the lid, caught sight of her hand taking it from his.

            _Possibilities: love, lust – no, clearly feelings of intimacy – infatuation? Unlikely. Friendship? Stronger. He’s different._

            Shion looked back at the faucet, then reached out, turned it off, and there was Safu’s hand again, holding out a dishtowel for him.

            _This Nezumi…Trustworthy? Kind? Must be. In love? Loves Shion? Has to be, who wouldn’t be? No family, lonely –_

            Shion tilted his head up at the ceiling while he dried his hands. “Okay. I’ll call him.”

            “I know you will.”

            Shion looked away from the ceiling, handed Safu the towel.

            _Misses him. Thinks about him. How long? Call might make it worse._

            “Shion – ”

            Shion gently loosened his wrist from the hand Safu suddenly wrapped around it.

            “It’ll be fine, I’ll be right back,” he said, not knowing why he was walking away from her, slipping up the stairs, turning left, opening Safu’s room door and closing it behind him and fishing his phone from his back pocket.

            He had never called Nezumi before. They’d texted occasionally after Nezumi got a phone because it was convenient, only if there was a night when Shion would be showing up at Nezumi’s apartment later than usual, or a night when Nezumi preferred to come to Shion’s apartment when they’d previously agreed to meet at Nezumi’s or vice versa.

            They didn’t have conversations over text. They hadn’t been friends, and they certainly hadn’t been boyfriends.

            Nezumi’s name glowed on Shion’s phone screen. He touched the phone button, then ended the call before it started ringing.

            The door was hard against the back of Shion’s head. He closed his eyes. Slid down the back of the door, onto Safu’s carpet. Touched his phone to his lips, the screen of it cool.

            It didn’t make sense to call Nezumi. It would be strange. Confusing.

            Nezumi was his past. He was Nezumi’s past. They’d only had sex, they’d known it would only be for a few months, there was never a plan for more, an intention for more, an allowance for more.

            Shion would not be returning to the city, and he knew Nezumi would not be leaving his job, his small apartment, his entire life, to come closer to Shion.

            The four hours of distance between them might not have been so much if they’d been involved in a romantic relationship, but they hadn’t been.

            Nezumi was not meant to be a part of Shion’s life. He had only felt like it, but all he really had been was an experience.

            A brief allowance of time, and then over.

            Shion opened his eyes. His chest felt hot, the inside of it, where his heart beat and his lungs swelled. He pressed the phone button again, lifted his phone to his ear.

            He’d helped Nezumi set up his voicemail. He’d laughed in the background as Nezumi recorded it, kept laughing each time so that Nezumi gave up on trying to record a message without the sound of Shion’s stifled giggle behind his voice.

             – _It’s Nezumi. Get to the point if it’s important. –_

            Shion did not hear Nezumi’s abrupt voice mail cutting off the ring. Instead, there was Nezumi himself.

            “Shion.”

            _Shion._

            Nezumi’s voice through the phone, but in Shion’s head as well, in his thoughts as well, and Shion was so startled by this, amazed by it.

            “Think something,” Shion said quickly, needing to verify it.

            _You called._

            Shion touched his lips to hide his smile, but there was no one in the room.

            He was alone. It was easy to forget. He closed his eyes to make it easier.

            “I can read your thoughts over the phone,” he told Nezumi, hearing the giddiness in his own voice, feeling it in his chest.

            The warmth. The energy. Like a sun had replaced his heart.

            _How thrilling._

            Shion laughed, a breath of a laugh. He pressed his phone harder to his ear even though Nezumi’s voice was in his head.

            _Miss that laugh. Miss this voice. Miss this kid. Miss – You’re reading this._

            “I can’t help it.”

            “I remember.” 

            It had only been three days.

            “How are you?” Shion pulled his legs up to his chest. He wanted to condense himself, make himself as small as possible so that Nezumi’s voice would not fill just his head, but all of him.

            _Don’t ask me that._

            “Fine,” Nezumi said.

            “Oh, Merry Christmas,” Shion said, forgetting he’d had a reason to call, a purpose.

            He regretted saying it. He should have saved the words. Now he had no excuse to stay on the line. Nothing else he needed to say.

            _Oh, right. It’s Christmas today._

            “Merry Christmas,” Nezumi said smoothly.

            Shion pressed his spine flat against the door behind him.

            “Stop reading my thoughts.”

            “Sorry.”

            _Always sorry. Fuck your sorrys._

            Shion let out his breath. Opened his eyes. Useless having them closed.

            It wasn’t easy to forget that Nezumi was not beside him.

            It was all he could think about.

            “Why did you call? Did you leave something at my place?”

            _What do you want from me?_

            “I don’t want anything. I called because – To tell you Merry Christmas, that’s all.”

            “That’s all, huh. Well, you’ve said it.”

            “Nezumi, don’t do that,” Shion said, regretting it instantly.

            _Don’t do that? Are you kidding me? What the hell have I done?_

            _I miss you._

_Shit._

_Shit, Shion, don’t read my fucking thoughts, mind your goddamn business for once._

            Shion pressed his hand to his eyes.

            “I gotta go.” Nezumi’s voice was stiff.

            Shion didn’t want to hang up. He didn’t want to keep talking to Nezumi, he didn’t want to keep hearing Nezumi’s thoughts, not like this, but the absence of him was worse.

            “Nezumi – Wait, listen. I didn’t know. I didn’t know this would happen, I didn’t think this could, that we would – I had to leave the city. I can’t live there anymore. What we were doing, it had to be – It couldn’t last longer, I couldn’t stay longer, I had to leave, you don’t understand, in the city there’s just too many thoughts, and I was – ”

            “Shion, I’m going to hang up on you, so you should shut up or I’ll have to hang up on you while you’re speaking, and I know you’d get all hurt and offended if I did that. So don’t make me.”

            “Don’t hang up.”

            _I told you not to leave, and you did anyway._

            “Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year in advance, so you don’t have to bother calling on that one. And have a grand whatever holiday is next, and the one after that too, you should be free from the obligation of calling me for a good few months, maybe even half a year if we’re lucky,” Nezumi said, the hardness of his voice squeezing Shion’s chest, smaller, smaller.

            And then there was only silence.

            “Nezumi,” Shion whispered, but he knew Nezumi had hung up.

            He kept the phone by his ear anyway.

            “I miss you too,” he told the silence, the empty line.

            He couldn’t tell Nezumi because that wouldn’t be fair.

            What good was it, to miss him?

            Pointless. Useless. Obvious.

            Of course they missed each other. They’d spent nearly every night together for three months.

            They would miss each other, but then they would remember the lives they used to live without each other in them.

            And those lives would continue. And the missing would stop.

            It would just take time. Time and distance, and Shion knew he should not have called Nezumi.

            He took his phone from his ear. Went to Nezumi’s contact. Deleted it, as well as their text conversation, as well as his call history, so that there was no evidence of Nezumi’s number at all.

            So that Shion could never contact him again, even when he wanted to, even when the silence in his head became unbearable, even when the absence of Nezumi’s voice was the presence of a gnawing inside of him, curling Shion into himself, tightly in a ball on the floor of Safu’s bedroom that he remained in until the sharp pain of his longing dulled into a throbbing – but endurable – ache.

*

Shion had not told his mother why he’d dropped out of college.

            He didn’t have an excuse for her. He had never told her he could read minds, and he didn’t intend to.

            He loved his mother more than anyone in the world, and knew she felt the same for him. He knew she would believe him, and he knew she would accept him.

            He also knew she would understand him. She would understand him too well, she would know that to read minds was a burden on Shion, a heavy weight, a struggle. That it was not easy, that it was hard, overwhelming, gave him headaches, burdened him with stresses and worries that were not his but became his because he could not ignore the voices inside his head, the lives he received snapshots of, the problems of other people.

            Shion did not want his mother to worry for him, and so he did not tell her, and he knew he never would.

            They were making Christmas cookies even though Christmas had been over for a week.

            Karan liked making Christmas cookies, and so did Shion, and so they decided that the passing of the holiday itself should not stop them.

            It was the first day of the new year. Shion pressed the star-shaped cookie cutter into a flat circle of dough. He liked baking because he didn’t have to look at anyone, at anything but ingredients and dough.

            “You haven’t said anything about my decision to drop out,” Shion said, lifting the cookie cutter and examining the shape it’d etched.

            He touched the center of the star. It was smooth, soft, almost like human skin. The thought was strange, and Shion took his finger away from the dough.

            “Would you like me to?” his mother asked.

            She carved gingerbread men out of the dough she’d kneaded, flour stains over her knuckles still lingering in the cracks of her skin. She used a knife instead of a cookie cutter so that each gingerbread man was a little different, forming a population rather than a batch of clones.

            Shion hesitated before pressing his cookie cutter into his dough again. He wanted to get as many stars out of it as he could, twisted the cookie cutter around the star already formed and tried to plan out how best to position the second one.

            “Aren’t you – Are you upset?”

            Shion had called his mother four days after dropping out. He had been trying not to cry as he did so, and he knew his voice had shaken over the phone.

            His mother had only asked him two things:

            If he was okay, and when he would come home.

            She had not asked him why. She had not asked him if he knew he was wasting his potential, throwing out his schooling, jeopardizing the future they’d planned together, ruining the rest of his life.

            “I run a bakery, sweetheart. I know that an extended education is not necessary to live a happy and fulfilling life, which is all I want for you. I’ll only be upset if you feel that this was the wrong decision, but I know you. I don’t believe you’d decide something like this without knowing it was right for you.”

            Shion pressed the cookie cutter into his dough so that one side of the second star fell right against one side of the first.

            “I don’t know what’s right for me,” he managed.

            He was a kid. He felt like a kid. He didn’t know what was best, he didn’t know what was right.

            He was restless, restless.

            Before pressing in the third star, Shion laid the cookie cutter lightly on different parts of the dough, counting how many stars he would make out of it.

            He knew, once he made all the stars he could, he would ball up the leftover dough and roll it out again, start all over.

            “You’re so young, you don’t need to know what’s right for you right now.”

            “What if I made a mistake?” Shion looked at his mother, who stopped carving out the arm of a gingerbread woman.

            Her gaze felt to him as comforting as a hug.

            _So handsome. Love. My son. Uncertain, lost. Poor boy, so much worry._

            When her hand cupped his cheek, Shion felt the flour on it, how it smoothed out her palm.

            “The new semester starts in three days, doesn’t it?” she asked.

            _Love. Love. Love. Take care of him. He’s just a boy, so grown up, still a boy._

            Shion lowered his eyes. “Yes.” He swallowed.

Minds were not always full of worry. Just as often, there were beautiful thoughts, incredible pieces of people’s lives that Shion was allowed to experience.

            There were many times when he did not hate mind reading. When he found it incredible. When it filled him with warmth.

            “How would you feel right now if you had to return to school?”

            His mother had cut seven gingerbread men in the time it took Shion to make two stars. They were lined up between his and his mother’s rolled-out circles of dough. One gingerbread man has its hands on its waist, and the rest waved, as if greeting each other. Shion would help his mother decorate them with icing later. Paint faces on them, expressions of happiness, joy, surprise, excitement, love.

            They only ever picked the good emotions for their gingerbread men.

            “I’d feel scared,” Shion admitted.

            He didn’t think about the words before he said them. When he realized what he’d said, it was too late to take them back, and he was looking at his mother without meaning to.

            _Scared?_

            Shion shook his head, looked away from her, felt her hand leave his cheek. “I didn’t mean that. Not like that. It’s just – It’s more than I can take. I’m – I’m overwhelmed.”

            He felt pathetic, saying the words out loud. A disappointment.

            He had so much potential. People expected great things from him.

            He knew, if he were to look at his mother, she would not be disappointed in him. He knew he would hear that she only loved him, and worried for him, and wanted him to be happy.

            He didn’t know why it wasn’t enough.

            “Then you won’t go back. Right now, honey, we’ll finish these Christmas cookies. And after that, we’ll have Safu come over to help us eat them. And after that, we’ll go to bed full and happy. And only after all that’s been done do I want you to worry about anything. Does that sound all right?”

            Shion nodded, let his mother hug him, sagged in her arms and let her hold him up.

            The sleeve of her shirt was soft against his skin when he dipped his forehead into her shoulder. When he breathed her in, there was only cinnamon and sugar and flour.

            His eyes were closed, but he didn’t need to look at her to know what she was thinking.

            He felt it, in her arms around his back.

            He felt it, in her body solid against his, holding him up until he was ready to deal with the weight of gravity on his own again.

*

Safu called Shion while he was piping dough with a pastry bag onto a baking sheet for a batch of éclairs.

            He peeled off one of his gloves to answer his phone, lighting up on the edge of the counter, and pressed the speaker button.

            “Hi, Safu.”

            “Don’t be mad.”

            Shion pulled on a new glove. “What are you talking about?”

            In the background of the call, Shion heard a car honking.

            Safu was in Tokyo for the weekend, visiting a research facility with her professor, who’d invited her to sit-in on a conference about the effect of some tentative drug that was meant to slow the synapse-reactions in the brain.

            Safu had launched into a longwinded explanation of the details of the drug and how it related to her specific concentration on psychoanalysis pharmaceutical research that Shion had difficulty keeping up with, interrupted by Safu’s thoughts, which went on tangents, exploring the parts of her research relating to each thing she said until Shion had been forced to close his eyes and ask her to stop talking for a few minutes.

            The predicament with having a friend as intelligent and passionate about her research as Safu was that she could become easily overwhelming, but so engaging that Shion didn’t want to look away, and in fact usually forgot to look away and give himself a break until his headache was already manifested.

            “I bought a ticket,” Safu said.

            Shion picked up the pastry bag again.

            “For the theater,” Safu continued, and Shion squeezed the bag too hard. A glob of dough spread on the baking sheet, a lumpy contrast to the other careful strips.

            It was February. Shion had returned to work in his mother’s bakery, though he was in the kitchen now while his mother manned the front of the shop.

            He knew he wouldn’t stay here forever. It was not what he wanted to do forever. But for now, it felt like just what he needed.

            Calming.

            “Since when did you like the theater?” Shion asked, not as casually as he would have liked.

            “It’s _Les Miserables._ The protagonist, um, Jean Valjean? I could never get the hang of pronouncing French. The role is played by Nezumi. I’m looking at his photograph in the playbook right now. He’s very attractive.”

            Shion was squeezing the pastry bag again, a small pile of dough having formed on the baking sheet beside the mess he’d already made.

            He forced himself to put it down.

            “Are you mad?” Safu asked.

            Shion tried to speak normally. “Why would I be mad?”

            “I’m going to try to go backstage and talk to him.” Safu spoke as if she had said something reasonable, so that it took a second before Shion fully absorbed the words, realized how completely unreasonable they were.

            “Why would you do that?” Shion said, on his realization, almost shouting.

            He ripped off both gloves and picked up his phone, taking it off speaker and lifting it up to his ear.

            “Safu, don’t do that.”

            “I won’t say I know you, I just want to see what he’s like. I’m curious, it’s a natural reaction, this was your first boyfriend, and I never even got to meet him. It’s your fault my curiosity has not at all been satisfied by your descriptions. I know you said he was good-looking, but you could have mentioned he was completely gorgeous. You really did leave out a significant amount of details.”

             “Safu, wait, this is a terrible idea. I’ll satisfy your curiosity, what do you want to know?”

            “Did you ever mention my name or will I have to make up a new one?”

            “Don’t tell him your name. Don’t talk to him at all. You’re not really going to talk to him, are you?”

            “I’ll just pretend to be a fan, a worshipping girl who finds him attractive and wants to flirt with him. I’m sure he’s used to that.”

            Shion looked around the bakery as if it might have some advice as to how to stop Safu from proceeding with her terrible plan.

            The oven beeped. It had preheated to 425 degrees.

            “You’re mad,” Safu said.

            “I’m – I’m – ” Shion’s hand was in his hair. He let go of it. “I’m convinced this will not go well. Nezumi is very astute. He’ll know.”

            “He’ll know I’m your childhood best friend even when I give him a fake name and pretend to be a simpering fan, hundreds of which he must meet every night?”

            “Yes.” Shion had no doubt. Nezumi would know.

            “Did you show him a picture of me?”

            “No.”

            “How will he know?” Safu truly sounded curious.

            “I don’t know, he just will. Safu, just, please don’t.” Shion’s voice pulled. He closed his eyes.

            “You really don’t want me to.”

            Shion thought about Nezumi still. Had developed a habit when he would think about Nezumi where he would try to picture where Nezumi was at that exact moment, what he was doing.

            Right now, Shion pictured him in his dressing room at the theater. He didn’t know what Nezumi’s dressing room looked like, but he pretended he did.

            A mirror stretched entirely across one wall. A counter cluttered with tissues and stage make-up and his script book folded open and a mug of cold tea balanced precariously in the corner. A chair in front of it with Nezumi’s name on the back. A long clothing rack with all of Nezumi’s costumes from previous shows, the costume of the current show hung at the very front.

            Nezumi himself, standing in front of it, unzipping the garment bag, touching the fabric with the tips of his long fingers. In his head, a calming quiet.

            Nezumi thought of nothing, before his shows. Shion had no evidence of this, but he liked to imagine it.

            “I really don’t want you to,” Shion confirmed quietly.

            “Then of course I won’t. I wasn’t thinking, that wasn’t very sensitive of me.”

            “It’s really fine, Safu.”

            “If you – Oh, I have to go, they’re flashing the lights, I need to find my seat.”

            “Enjoy the show,” Shion said.

            “I’ll call you later, love you, bye!”

            Shion put his phone down on the counter again. He looked at the rows of uncooked éclair dough on the baking sheet, but didn’t see them.

            In his head, there was a knock on Nezumi’s dressing room door. It was the stage manager, popping her head in, letting Nezumi know he had to be on in five.

            Nezumi nodded to acknowledge her. He was dressed now. He was ready.

            The door closed, and Nezumi was alone, taking a deep breath but not nervous. He walked out his dressing room, along dark passageways and up a set of stairs to the stage where he stood in the very center, bracing himself for the bright spotlight that would soon be on him, knowing better than to squint in the sudden light of it. The audience hushed on the other side of the curtain, and then the curtain was opening, and then he was parting his lips to speak the first lines of the play.

            Shion could no longer hear Nezumi’s voice in his head, but he pretended he could see him.

            It was better than nothing.

*

The winter was short, sunshine cutting it off earlier than usual so that mid-March had Shion taking jogs outside rather than going to the gym.

            By April, his calves were no longer sore, accustomed to his morning routine, and by May, Shion had stretched his jogs out to an hour, waking at dawn to catch the day before the summer heat set in.

            More than that, he wanted to jog before anyone else was out, before anyone else was even awake, stepping out of their houses to grab the newspaper from their front steps.

            It was late May when Shion received a text message from Safu, back from his jog and freshly showered, tying on an apron in the kitchen of his mother’s bakery and about to set into the prep work for the day.

            Safu was spending the summer in Tokyo, interning at the research facility she had visited months before. She had been in the city for just over a month.

             – _My supervisor just let me know I have this weekend off. Visit me? –_

            Shion straightened out the loop of the apron around his neck. Rubbed his thumb over Safu’s words on the screen, then picked up his phone.

            _– Of course. Can’t wait –_

            He turned his phone over, went through the pantries to unearth the ingredients for macaroons, crème puffs, raspberry thumbprint cookies, cheesecake tassies, napoleons, rum balls.

            He had expanded his mother’s menu. Fallen into his work at the bakery, challenged himself past the usual cupcakes, scones, and pies that he’d known to make since childhood.

            It was enough to keep the restlessness at bay for periods of time, but he knew it wouldn’t last.

            He’d have to move on soon. He’d have to deal with his future soon.

            Soon, but not yet.

*

On the first of June, Shion drove into the city, pulling in the same parking garage where he’d used to park because Safu’s apartment was near his old building.

            He was meeting her for lunch at an Italian restaurant he used to order take-out from, and walked instead of taking the bus. Sweat under the arms of his shirt sleeves and along his lower back stuck the fabric of his t-shirt to his skin not five minutes after he stepped out of the parking garage.

            He wiped his forehead and tried not to look at too many people as he walked.

            The city sidewalk on a Saturday was crowded. Thoughts flitted in and out of his head, voices jostling to be heard so that he received fragments of sentences, loose words.

            _Late –_

_…so hot –_

_Hungry –_

_Mae should be –_

_…shoes too –_

_Lunch at –_

_…burger, fries –_

_Monday –_

_…taxi –_

_He’s not –_

_She –_

_We –_

_I –_

Inside the restaurant was chilly. Shion shivered on walking in, his sweat cooling instantly.

            _Red eyes? White hair? What kind of –_

            “Hello, sir, how many in your party?”

            _Has to be contacts. Weird millennial shit. Freaky looking._

            “Hi, I’m with a reservation for two under Safu?” Shion said, looking down at the podium in front of the host.

            “Ah, yes, she just came in, if you’ll just follow me.”

            Shion let his eyes skim over already seated customers as he walked by them, more snippets flitting through his head, trying not to pay attention to them and finally seeing Safu, who smiled brightly at him, pushing her chair back.

            _Shion._

“Shion! Hi, it’s so good to see you.”

            “Thank you,” Shion told the waiter, hugging Safu before they both sat again. “Hi.”

            “You all right?”

            _Looks scattered, tired._

            “I forgot what cities were like, I’m fine.”

            “Shall we get take-out?”

            Shion looked down at the menu the host had placed for him.

            “No, it’s fine, I’ll just look at you,” Shion said, smiling up at Safu, who smiled back.

            _Trust him. So good to see him._

            “I missed you, I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you after my semester ended, they wanted me to start at the city right away.”

            “I understand, but my mom missed you. How has it been? Tell me everything.”

            As overwhelming as the city had been, it was a relief to talk to Safu again, to see her even when Shion couldn’t look at her for too long periods of time, took breaks looking down at his plate, at the salt shaker on the side of the table, at his glass of water.

            Shion was used to this, had been doing this for four and a half years. He had long stopped wishing for anything to be different.

            “Okay, I have a surprise for you, but you might not like it.”

            Shion picked a piece of bread from the basket between them, examined the way the dough separated as he tore it in half.

            “If you know I don’t like it, why would you give it to me?” Shion asked.

            “I don’t know you won’t like it, I have a suspicion.”

            A ticket slipped across the tablecloth into his line of vision, pushed by Safu’s fingers that Shion caught just a glimpse of, enough for a word of his friend’s voice to sound inside his head.

            _Nezumi_.

            Shion didn’t need to read the words on the ticket to put two-and-two together.

            “I’m not going.”

            “It was just a suggestion, I won’t push you. I just thought it might be fun. He’s playing the phantom in _The Phantom of the Opera._ It’s their opening show.”

            Shion picked up the ticket, ran his fingertip along the side of it, the paper a thick, laminated parchment and its edge surprisingly soft.

            “How many of his plays have you seen?” Shion asked.

            “Only two, I haven’t been here long, only one of his plays has been running since I got here, and then there was _Les Miserables_ from months ago, of course.”

            “Safu, you’re more intelligent than most people when it comes to just about anything. Why would it be a good idea for me to go to this play? I’m trying to move on, remember?”

            Shion glanced out the window, caught the thoughts of passerby by accident, looked quickly away from them.

            “Nezumi is very talented, and you’d be enjoying the culture of the arts,” Safu replied.

            She was smiling lightly when Shion looked at her.

            _Misses him still. Was it love? Why won’t he tell me?_

            “Okay. I’ll go,” Shion said, not knowing why he was saying it.

            To prove to Safu, maybe, that he was fine.

            To prove to himself, possibly, that he could move on.

            To prove to both of them, most likely, that it was not love.

            Shion had liked Nezumi. It was all right to miss someone he liked. It was normal to still think about him.

            There was a crease between Safu’s eyes.

            _Forcing him._

            “I don’t want to force you, Shion. If you don’t want to go – ”

            “I want to go. You’re right. He’s an incredible actor. I shouldn’t deprive myself of getting to appreciate that simply because we used to have sex.”

            _Boyfriend._

            “He wasn’t my boyfriend,” Shion added, forgetting he wasn’t supposed to respond to thoughts.    

            “I know, I know,” Safu said, waving her hand. “You really want to go?”

            “I really want to go,” Shion said, and it wasn’t a lie.

            He did want to see Nezumi.

            Even now, when he’d thought he would be over Nezumi, he wasn’t.

            One day, he would be, of course he would. But today he had a ticket to Nezumi’s show, and it would have been a waste not to give in to the temptation.

*

The seat cushion was familiar, maroon with thick fabric Shion pressed the bases of his palms into outside his thighs.

            The lights flickered, then dimmed. Shion read the thoughts of the people sitting in the seats in front of him.

            Shion had only seen three of Nezumi’s plays. To watch plays was difficult because of the backs of the heads of the audience he could see, and every actor on stage.

            There were many voices in Shion’s head, and to concentrate on plot was tricky.

            Nezumi’s presence made it easier. It was natural to focus on his voice, amidst the others. To pick it out, to listen to only Nezumi’s lines, only Nezumi’s thoughts when he wasn’t speaking.

            Shion couldn’t receive the entire narrative as it was meant to be, but he knew better than to expect that.

            He closed his eyes to silence the audience.

            “The curtain’s opening,” Safu whispered to him. “It’s starting.” Her hand squeezed his.

            Shion didn’t open his eyes. He realized he didn’t need to.

            There was a banging sound, and then – “Sold. Your number, sir? Thank you.”

            It wasn’t Nezumi’s voice. More voices came, and none were Nezumi’s, but Shion listened to each of them, receiving the plot of the story, and then there was a voice in his head even though his eyes were closed, even though no one’s voice was supposed to be in his head but his own when his eyes were closed.

            And Nezumi’s. Of course Nezumi’s belonged.

            _Need to sneeze. Shit. Typical, right before my goddamn cue._

            Shion inhaled deeply, and a second later, Nezumi’s voice was in his ears rather than his head – “Bravi, bravi, bravissimi…”

            Shion opened his eyes, and thoughts flooded in, but Shion wasn’t listening to anything.     

            He was looking, looking, looking.

            “He’s not on stage,” Safu whispered in his ear. “He’s the phantom, remember? Hidden.”

            Shion stared at the stage, thoughts whirling in his head, and then he closed his eyes again, darkness and silence swift to replace the noise.

            _So it was the hand that started it all…His hands had been infected, and soon it would be his arms…His hands were ravenous._

            The theater was cool, air conditioned. Shion hadn’t worn a jacket. Goosebumps prickled his arms, and he ran his fingers over them lightly, liking how they felt under his fingertips.

            _We must be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the constitution says, but everyone made equal…A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon._

            Shion had stopped listening to the voices on stage. Listened only to Nezumi’s thoughts in his head, assumed Nezumi was reading lines from his script book, preparing for his next cue.

            _Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me it means texture. This book has pores._

            Shion didn’t notice at first, but only gradually, that the tone of Nezumi’s thoughts did not match the lines from the play that Shion had been listening to before he heard Nezumi’s voice in his head.

            Shion started listening to the play again, comparing the words to Nezumi’s voice. Realized that Nezumi wasn’t reading lines from his script book at all. Suspected strongly that Nezumi was reading from an actual novel while he waited off stage, realized that Nezumi was not even paying attention to the play he was currently acting in.

            _It’s perpetual motion; the thing man wanted to invent but never did –_

            And then Nezumi’s voice stopped altogether, only to return a second later, this time not in Shion’s head but singing loudly, projected to the entire theater –

            “Insolent boy! This slave of fashion basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!”

            “Is he on stage?” Shion whispered, dipping his head towards Safu.

            “Not yet.”

            Shion had lost focus of the narrative while listening to Nezumi read off stage, but got swept up in it again, quickly, easily, listening to Nezumi’s exchange –

            “There’s his reflection in a mirror!” Safu whispered, but Shion waited.

            It had been five months. A reflection wasn’t nearly enough.

            A voice that wasn’t Nezumi’s – “Whose is that voice…? Who is that in there…?”

            Swelling music, and then Safu’s hand on his arm, fingers digging into his skin.

            “He’s beautiful,” she whispered, and Shion opened his eyes.

            Nezumi was standing center stage in a blazing spotlight, more concentrated than a normal spotlight, exaggerated and brilliant, and Safu, as usual, was right.

            He was beautiful.

*

When the curtain closed after the last act, Nezumi’s voice was gone again from Shion’s head.

            Shion didn’t know if Nezumi’s thoughts were silent, or if the connection as gone again. He didn’t know what the range was, for hearing Nezumi’s thoughts, or if there even was a range. He didn’t know the rules. He didn’t think there were any.

            The intrusion of the audiences’ thoughts as the lights came back on in the theater was too much at first, but then Shion was able to make out a few words here and there, and he heard that he was not the only one thinking about Nezumi.

            This was not surprising. The audiences of Nezumi’s plays that Shion had previously attended shared the same sentiments.

            Awe at Nezumi’s performance. Wonder at his talent. Reverence for his beauty.

            The air outside the theater was almost sticky in contrast to the chill of the air conditioning. Shion rubbed down his goosebumps, quickly fading over his skin.

            Safu looped her arm in his.

            “Close your eyes, I’ll guide you,” she said, and Shion agreed gratefully.

            “Thanks.”

            “He was incredible.”

            “Yeah.”          

            They were walking, and Shion didn’t hesitate in his steps. He trusted Safu completely. She had guided him like this before.

            “I can’t believe he was your boyfriend. He’s nearly famous, did you realize that? He could star in major productions, I’m sure he’s had offers. Does he have an agent?”

            “I don’t think so,” Shion said. He debated reminding Safu that Nezumi had not been his boyfriend.

            _Shit, it’s hot. Sweating already._

            Shion stumbled.

            “Sorry, was that me? Did I guide you over a crack?”

            “No, it’s him.”

            “Who? Nezumi?”

            “I just read his mind,” Shion said, not wanting to open his eyes, not wanting the barrage of voices from the Saturday night city street to drown out the one he listened for again, hoping for again.

             “Really? What is he thinking? Hold on, stay close to me, I’m pulling us out of the main bustle so I can look for him. What’s the radius on reading his mind?”

            “I don’t know, it changes all the time, I don’t think there is a set distance. He was thinking that it’s hot.”

            _Starving._

            “And he’s hungry,” Shion added.

            “I don’t see him, but that’s not surprising. He probably wouldn’t make himself easily seen so close to the theater, people doubtlessly flock to him and you mentioned he’s not interested in catering to his fanbase, right?”

            “Right.”

            Safu pulled Shion to stop him from walking, and Shion assumed they were at the corner of the sidewalk, out of peoples’ way.

            “How should we proceed?” Safu asked.

            _Food at home? Milk…cereal? No, shit, I’m out. Should pick up groceries. Late. Tired. Tomorrow morning? Starving, dammit._

            “He’s going to get groceries. He goes to the OK three blocks down from the theater, it’s near his place.”

            “Are we following him?”

            Safu’s hand squeezed his. Shion listened to the voices around him, some still discussing the play, theatergoers who’d walked out the same way as them. The rush of cars passing by, some honking, others with music escaping open windows. A cellphone ringing. Children arguing.

            Shion closed his eyes tighter, until it hurt, but nothing was silenced. “I don’t – I don’t know.”

            “I will do whatever you ask me to,” Safu said, her voice close beside him, louder than any other sound even though she spoke softly.

            Shion took comfort in it.

            “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”

            Safu didn’t say anything. Someone shouted curses out the window of a car, Shion could tell from the way the sound of it moved away in a rush.

            “But I might not have minded if he was,” Shion admitted. “If we could have – If that had been an option.”

            “Why wasn’t it an option, Shion?”

            Shion thought about opening his eyes, then didn’t. “I can’t live in the city. And Nezumi can’t leave, this is where he works, he’s so good at it, you said it yourself, he could be even bigger than this theater, what would he do in a small town? It wouldn’t make sense.”

            “Long distance is not an impossible problem. People work that out all the time.”

            “I don’t want long distance.” Or short distance. Or any distance of any kind, of any length.

            “Do you want to go to the grocery store?” Safu asked.

            “Yes.”

            “Then let’s go to the grocery store,” Safu said, and her hand tightened around Shion’s, pulled him forward.

            He walked close to her, his side against hers, feeling the movement of her body alongside his own. People brushed by him, but they would have done so even if his eyes had been open.

            Tokyo had busy streets.

            “You said he goes to the OK a few blocks down, right?”

            They had been walking for ten minutes, if that.

            “Yeah.”

            “I see it. We have to cross the street.”

            “I don’t want to open my eyes.”

            “We have the walk signal, stay close to me,” Safu said, as if he wasn’t already, and Shion pressed himself even closer to her. “Step up for the curb.”

            Shion could hear the sound of automatic doors opening not a minute later.

            “We’re inside the store,” Safu said, but Shion could tell.

            The street sounds were muffled, then gone completely, replaced by steady beeps of scanned groceries, the automated voice from the self-check-out registers asking for coupons and store savings cards, the roll of cart wheels over the linoleum, the clatter of a cart hitting the side of a shelf, the voices of people calling out to one another, asking exactly how empty the jar of strawberry jam was at home.

            “He’d be getting cereal, or pasta, or milk, or eggs. Maybe bananas. Or bread.”

            “He only eats six foods?”

            “What aisle are we in?”

            “We’re walking through produce, he’s not by the bananas, I’m taking us to whatever is in the next aisle. Oh, watch out – ” Safu jerked Shion closer to her. “Sorry, that kid is running around with a cart. Where are her parents?”

            “He might already be checking out, we don’t know how much of a head start he had, he could have been right next to the store when he decided to shop.”

            “Okay, here’s pasta… no Nezumi, um – ”

            _Cheerios on sale, store brand… Is three for seven less than 2.23? Who labels this shit, just put the price –_

“The cereal aisle!” Shion nearly shouted, opening his eyes by accident, the luminescent light of the supermarket taking him by surprise, and he squinted in it.

            _Fruit snacks –_

_…Yuki’s soccer game –_

_2b, 2b, 2b –_

            Shion blinked down at his shoes, allowing his eyes to adjust.

            _Six divided by three is two, seven has one more, one divided by three is thirty something, so two thirty something…More than 2.23, okay, wait – which one was – uh –_

            “You okay?” Safu asked.

            “My eyes are adjusting, I’m fine, can you pull me to the aisle? I just want to keep my head ducked.”

            “Cereal?” Safu asked, already pulling him. “Watch out, there’s a powdered donut display. Seasonings….Baking…Cereal! Oh, sorry – Oh – ”

            _Shion._

            Shion had looked up in time to watch Safu bump into someone, looking up at the signs instead of where she was going. The person she’d bumped into had been walking out of the cereal aisle.

            A box of Cheerios dropped by Shion’s feet, and he stooped to pick it up while Safu let go of his hand.

            _It’s him._

            “Hi,” Shion said, holding out the cereal.

            _Shion, shit._

            Long fingers wove into bangs. Dark hair grazed the shoulders of a black t-shirt. Black sweatpants rolled up over pale calves. Long eyelashes that curled.

            His eyes were grey and wide and flickered, rushing, over Shion’s face.

            _Shit._

            Nezumi didn’t take the box of cereal. Cheerios. On sale, three for seven.

            “One box is two thirty-four. They’ll round up the fraction. It’s more expensive than the store brand.”

            _Round up the – What the hell is he talking about? Shion. Here? Shit. How?_

            Shion swallowed. “The cereal, I’m talking about the cereal,” he said quietly.

            It was hard to look at Nezumi. Nezumi, with thin lips, parted.

            Nezumi, with knuckles whitening, hand curled in his hair.

            Nezumi, with a bead of sweat that had dripped down from his hairline in front of his right ear.

            Nezumi, with grey eyes still rushing over Shion’s skin.

            “Hello,” Safu said.

            The grey eyes shifted, Nezumi’s head turning a fraction of an inch first, his eyes following as if dragged away from Shion.

            Shion knew he was looking at Safu. Shion didn’t turn. He could see Safu whenever he wanted.

            He wasn’t going to look away from Nezumi.

            _Who’s that? Some girl. Doesn’t matter. Shion’s here. Shion, what the fuck is he doing – You’re reading my mind, I forgot, you read minds, how could I forget?_

“Sorry,” Shion whispered. Nezumi was looking at him again.

            “I’m Safu,” Safu piped up.

            “That’s Safu,” Shion said, inclining his head towards her without looking away from Nezumi, who didn’t look away from him.

            _I don’t care._

            “You should still say hello and pretend to be polite.”

            “Hello,” Nezumi said. He didn’t look away from Shion.

            _Shion. Shion. Red eyes. Scar. Lips. White eyelashes, goddamn white eyelashes. Shion. Shit._

            “You’re a better actor on stage,” Safu said, laughing lightly.

            _Stage? You come to my plays? You’re in this city, you’re still in this goddamn city coming to my plays and you –_

            “Just tonight’s play,” Shion said. His voice left his lips in a whisper. “I’m visiting Safu. That’s all.”

            “Is he talking to you in his mind? This is fascinating,” Safu said.

            _How long?_

            Nezumi’s hair was not tucked behind his ears. Shion wanted to tuck it back for him, before Nezumi got the chance to do it himself and take away Shion’s excuse to touch him. A flimsy excuse.

            “I leave tomorrow.”    

            _Don’t._

            “Should I give you two some time to – ”

            _Yes. Give us time. I need time with him._

            “No, I was leaving,” Nezumi said. He stopped looking at Shion, looked down at his hands.

            _Where the hell is my –_

            “Cheerios,” Shion said, holding the cereal up again, his arm having fallen by his side. He didn’t remind Nezumi that he had accidentally picked up the more expensive box, fallen for the deal, 3 for 7.

            Long fingers gripped the side of the box. Shion didn’t let go, but Nezumi took it from him.

            Nezumi walked past him, and Shion turned. “Nezumi, wait – ”

            _Wonder if this is on sale –_

            _…hope he’ll still be up when I get back –_

            _Leg keeps itching –_

            _Lines always so long –_

_Have to get home before –_

_…kill me if she finds out I’m still –_

_Which aisle has honey? –_

_Where did Mom –_

_Peanut butter, peanut –_

_Can’t believe she –_

_Hurts –_

_Hungry –_

_Expensive –_

_These aren’t –_

_Shit, forgot –_

A hand was on Shion’s wrist, and he looked down at it.

            _Overwhelmed, needs to close his eyes –_

            “Close your eyes, Shion.”

            Shion closed his eyes, and every voice was gone but one.

            _Shion. Shit. Fuck him, coming back – after five months? Why would he – Shion, why do I still miss him, what the fuck –_

“Where is he?” Shion whispered.

            “I think he’s in line somewhere. There’s a lot of people in here, and he walked away pretty quickly. I can’t see him anymore,” Safu said.

            “This was a bad idea, we should leave. Can we leave?”

            “We can leave,” Safu said, hand tightening in Shion’s, pulling him, and Shion was grateful not to have to steer himself.

            He kept his eyes shut.

            _Shion._

            He squeezed Safu’s hand back.

            _Shion._

            “Careful, walk closer to me.”

            _Why did he come back?_

            The opening of the automatic doors.

            _Are you reading my mind?_

            The heat of the city night air, hitting him like something solid.

            _Just leave._

            “I’ll get a taxi, I don’t want to make you walk in this, there’s too many people.”

            _Don’t come back._

            “Ow, you’re digging your fingernails into my skin.”

            _Shion._

            Shion loosened his hand around Safu’s, then let go of Safu’s completely.

            _Shion._

            “Shion?”

            _Shion._

            Shion opened his eyes, and he couldn’t hear Nezumi’s voice in his head anymore. The rest of the city was so much louder.

            Deafening.

*

Shion and Safu talked late into the night, going to bed at an early hour of the morning and waking up at noon, making breakfast in their pajamas and sitting on the counter, sharing eggs that they ate from the pan.

            By two in the afternoon, they’d finished cleaning the kitchen and changed, and Shion hugged his friend goodbye at her doorway.

            “I can walk you to the parking garage,” she insisted, holding his hand.

            Shion laughed. “It’s a five-minute walk! Didn’t you say you had some reading to get done for tomorrow?”

            “Stay longer, I’ll slack off on my work and lose my internship and we can spend the entire summer together like we used to,” Safu said, pulling Shion in for a hug again, and he hugged her back.

            “One of us has to be responsible.”

            His friend let go of him, and Shion allowed himself to look at her.

            _Miss him already, best friend, hope he’ll be all right, of course he will, he’s Shion, he’ll figure it out._

            “Text me when you get home,” she said.

            “I will.”

            “And give Karan a kiss for me.”

            “Bye, Safu.”

            “Take care of yourself!” Safu called, as Shion walked to the stairwell, waving behind him before he opened the door.

            He took the stairs quickly. Left Safu’s apartment building to find the air even stickier than the day before.

            He intended to walk to the parking garage, but didn’t.

            Looked at people as he walked through the city. Caught their thoughts, let them go. It was Sunday afternoon, less crowded than the day before, but enough people milled the streets that Shion wanted to walk with his eyes closed.

            It was a relief to be in front of the library. A bigger relief to be inside it. The air conditioning chilling the sweat that had collected along his hairline.

            He pushed his fingers into his hair, feeling strands slick back.

            He looked at the carpet, blue, tightly curled fibers. Walked to the shelves, ignoring the front desk, the reference tables, the people at the public computers.

            In the shelves, he walked slowly. Touched the spines of books. Waited.

            Nezumi could have been anywhere. In his apartment. At the theater. At a coffee shop. Walking around the city. At a restaurant. Meeting someone, somewhere, anywhere.

            But he belonged here. Amongst the shelves, along the books, around the words, ink on pages, black on white.      

            He belonged here, because this was where Shion had first seen him. This was where Shion pictured him.

            Long fingers skimming over the page of a book like the words were written in braille. Dark hair falling out from where he’d tucked it behind his ear. His voice in Shion’s head –

            _One morning, upon awakening from agitated dreams, Gregor Samsa found himself, in his bed, transformed into a monstrous vermin._

            Shion’s hand gripped a shelf. He exhaled. Relief pooled his stomach. His knees almost buckled.

            Steadied, he turned around, his back to the shelf. He slid down it, sitting on the library floor, the carpet with tightly woven threads, a dark blue.

            He closed his eyes. Listened.

            _At that time Gregor’s sole desire was to do his utmost to help the family forget as soon as possible the catastrophe that had overwhelmed the business and thrown them all into a state of complete despair._

            Calming.

            Shion tried to locate words to describe the voice in the moments it was quiet, the moments he knew long fingers would be flipping through pages, casual but deliberate.

            Bedsheets. A green toothbrush. Bite marks in the pale skin of a neck.

            _Did he really want the warm room, so cozily appointed with heirlooms, transformed into a lair, where he might, of course, be able to creep, unimpeded, in any direction, though forgetting his human past swiftly and totally?_

            A coffee can. Steam fogging a mirror. Velvet curtains.

            Shion tipped his head back. He didn’t open his eyes.

            _“He must go,” cried Gregor’s sister, “that’s the only solution, Father. You must just try to get rid of the idea that this is Gregor. The fact that we’ve believed it for so long is the root of all our trouble.”_

            The roll of cart wheels on linoleum. Music out a car window. Soup.

            _Lapsing into silence and communicating almost unconsciously with their eyes, they reflected that it was high time they found a decent husband for her._

            There were no words to describe Nezumi’s voice. It wasn’t comparable. It was its own entity, and it belonged in Shion’s head, shaping words that meant nothing, syllables with no meaning, a plot that was senseless and characters unknown to him.

            _And it was like a confirmation of their new dreams and good intentions that at the end of their ride the daughter was the first to get up, stretching her young –_

            “Excuse me, sir, this is a library, you cannot sleep here.”

            Shion opened his eyes.

            _Red eyes! Oh, my, how terrifying._

            “Sorry, I wasn’t sleeping, sorry,” Shion mumbled. He pushed his hands against the blue carpet. Stood up.

            _Shion’s voice? Shion._

            “Well, all right,” the librarian said, backing away from him, and Shion turned from her to free himself from her thoughts.

            _Shion?_

            “I’m in the aisle with, um, M’s, there’s M last names on this shelf,” Shion said, staring at the spines of the books in front of him, feeling idiotic as he spoke to the books, aware the librarian probably thought he was crazy as she continued backing out of the aisle and not refusing to look at her and confirm his guess. He didn’t speak loudly, as Nezumi had to be close to have heard his mumble to the librarian.

            _You’re here._

            Nezumi appeared at the end of the aisle, his hand on the shelf, long fingers touching the wood.

            In his other hand were two books.

            Shion smiled. “Hi.”

            Nezumi reached up, tucked his hair behind his ear. “Thought you were leaving today.”

            “I am,” Shion confirmed. He was.

            _He’s here. You’re here. Looks the same, different. You’re reading my thoughts._

            Nezumi’s mind was a mess of accidental thoughts and thoughts directed at him. Shion didn’t know if he should reply to them, what to reply to.

            “When?”

            “When what?” Shion asked, distracted by the voice in his head, by Nezumi’s fingers still touching his dark hair, in his bangs now, tightening.

            “When are you leaving?”

            “Today.”

            _Yes. We established that. When today?_

            “I don’t know.” He should have left already. He was supposed to walk to the parking garage. He was supposed to be in his car. He was supposed to drive home.

            “You got an hour to spare?” Nezumi asked, after nearly half a minute of silence. His fingers left his hair. Dropped to his side.

            His bangs were scattered over his eyes. Strands of them caught in his eyelashes. Long, curled.

            His eyes beneath them grey and steady and not leaving Shion’s.

            “An hour?”

            _For sex._

            “Yes,” Shion agreed, nodding as if it made sense when it didn’t.

            It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t a good idea.

            But why not?  

            He couldn’t think of a reason, and Nezumi didn’t think of one either; Shion could read his thoughts and all he read was –

            _Let’s go._

            “Have to check out a few books first,” Nezumi said.

            “Right.”

            Shion walked behind Nezumi, followed him to the front desk, avoided looking at the librarian behind the counter, listened to Nezumi’s thoughts instead, which were odd, sporadic.

            _Just an hour, doesn’t matter, gone either way, might as well, he could say no, he didn’t, what does it matter, I’ll fuck him and he’ll leave, he’ll leave anyway, just sex, all it was anyway, all it is, that’s why it doesn’t matter, shit he’s reading this – I keep forgetting. Got used to having my thoughts to myself again._

            “That’s okay,” Shion said quietly. He touched the counter to have something to touch.

            He wanted to touch Nezumi.

            Outside the library, the sun was brighter, hotter.

            “I hate the heat,” Nezumi said.

            “Your thoughts used to be quieter,” Shion said, not meaning to.

             “Yeah, well,” Nezumi muttered.

            _Unraveled, seeing you again. Five months. Then last night. Cereal. You. Out of fucking nowhere. Shit._

            “Shit.”

            Shion wanted to put Nezumi at ease. Tell Nezumi he didn’t care what he was thinking. That it wasn’t his business anyway. That Nezumi didn’t need to be embarrassed, ashamed, whatever he was feeling.

            Shion said none of that. “I saw _Phantom of the Opera_ last night. You were really great.”

            “Thanks.”

            “I’m not just saying that. I really mean it.”

            “Okay.”

            _Thank you._

            By the time they got to Nezumi’s apartment, Shion’s back was wet with sweat that he was certain soaked through his t-shirt.

            Nezumi was not better off. He wove his fingers through his bangs in the elevator, and they slicked back.

            _Hate the heat._

            Nezumi unlocked his apartment door, and Shion followed him in.

            The number of nights he had spent in this apartment came back, a thick wave of memories. His previous comfort here was not gone, but not the same as it had been.

            “Give me a second,” Nezumi said, shutting his apartment door, throwing his books on the floor beside his bed, and kicking off his boots before going into the bathroom.

            Shion toed off his shoes. Walked around the apartment in his socks. Ran his fingers over the stovetop, the door of the fridge, the cabinet doors, the walls. Refamiliarized himself even though he didn’t need to.

            He had every inch of the tiny apartment memorized.

            The toilet flushed, and the sink ran from the bathroom. It turned off half a minute later, and the bathroom door opened.

            Shion stood by the bed. Uncertain and hating that.

            “I’m covered in sweat, but I don’t give a shit. Do you?” Nezumi said, pulling off his t-shirt.

            “No.”

            Nezumi threw his shirt on the floor. Walked over to Shion, who stared up at him. His heart beat hard.

            Nezumi didn’t touch him.

            _We don’t have to. I just thought I’d ask. If you don’t want to have sex, we don’t have to._

            Shion didn’t answer him. Reached up and touched him, tucked his bangs behind his ear, then cupped his cheek. Nezumi’s skin was warm.

            Shion leaned up and kissed him, found his lips warmer, hot exhales skating over his skin.

            _Shion._

            Shion opened his mouth wider.

            _Hot. Lips. Warm. Kiss. Shion. More._

            Nezumi bit down on Shion’s bottom lip. It hurt. Shion wanted him to bite harder.

            He touched Nezumi’s chest. The skin there hot, damp. Felt Nezumi’s hands on the waist of his t-shirt, broke away from Nezumi to allow him to pull it off.

            While they were already apart, Shion unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, tugged them off, the fabric sticking to his legs from his sweat so that he hopped on one leg, nearly fell, and Nezumi caught him.

            “Take it easy,” Nezumi said, bending down to grip the waist band of Shion’s jeans and pull them down from where Shion had already lowered them to his knees.

            Shion let Nezumi take off his boxers next, then his socks, then watched Nezumi undress himself.

            They moved onto Nezumi’s bed. Laid down. Their skin was slick from sweat, slipping over each other as they moved against one another.

            _Slimy._

            “Stop!” Shion protested the word in his head, laughing, the laugh a relief, and he could see the relief in Nezumi as well.

            It was as if, with Shion’s laugh, they went back five months. It was as if, with Shion’s laugh, they’d never stopped spending every night with each other, and it was such a relief to lose the time they’d spent apart, even if it was just in their heads.

            “We should have showered.”

            “Some people find sweat sexy,” Shion pointed out, laughing again as Nezumi kissed his neck so lightly it tickled.

            Now that he’d laughed once, he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.

            _Are we those people?_

            “We could be.” Shion’s smile stayed even when he stopped laughing.

            _Okay. Let’s be those people._

            They were. With Nezumi’s thought as permission, they found sweat sexy.

            Shion had never wanted Nezumi more. While they fucked he hoped it would never stop. When he climaxed he was shaking from it.

            He could hear Nezumi’s thoughts. Knew Nezumi shared his feelings. Shion felt everything twofold, Nezumi’s pleasure resonating in his head while his own pleasure racked his body. He felt raw from it, from Nezumi’s touch, Nezumi’s body, Nezumi’s breath, Nezumi’s heat.

            Wrung out, loose. They gave themselves time after fucking once, then fucked again. Tried to hold out longer. It almost hurt not to climax immediately after the first time. Shion felt flustered with his own enjoyment. Overwhelmed by it, a little delirious. He blamed the heat, dehydration. It had been hot outside and was hotter in Nezumi’s apartment, which lacked air conditioning.

            Hotter under Nezumi’s body. Hotter with their movements, with skin on skin, with changing positions, with moving quickly then slowly then quickly then slowly again.

            When Nezumi hovered over him, his sweat dripped onto Shion.

            Shion found it sexy.

            The bed sheets were damp, stained with the salt water of their skin.

            Shion found it sexy.

            Their skin slick, then slippery, then nearly drenched.

            Shion found it sexy.

            And afterward, lying in the mess they’d made, lying across each other and interwoven with each other and then scooching away from each other because the other’s skin was too hot.

            Shion found this sexy too, and so did Nezumi, and Shion knew this because Nezumi’s voice was in his head, the entire time, Nezumi’s voice was right there where it hadn’t been for five months.

            _Fuck._

            Shion exhaled hard. He inhaled hard. He was breathing hard, still, though he didn’t think he’d moved for a good five minutes.

            He still felt it, the waves of diluted pleasure, the aftermath of their fucking, a pulse down the insides of his thighs.

            “You better not ask to go again. I think I’m going to pass out,” Nezumi breathed.

            “I wasn’t going to ask.”

            _You always ask._          

            Shion smiled lazily. He let silence pass between them. Nezumi’s mind was quiet, calming.

            When he had the energy to, Shion turned his head to look at Nezumi’s profile.

            They both laid on their backs.

            _You’re staring._

            “I can’t help it,” Shion said, smiling again, unable to stop himself, felt like he was smiling even between his smiles, like he was smiling without noticing at all, like he was smiling constantly and had no idea.

            Nezumi turned his head to look back at him. Shion watched Nezumi watch him.

_Cute. Happy._

            Shion bit his lip. “Hey.”

            “Hey.”

            “Read to me.”

            Nezumi groaned and stopped looking at him. “No, I’m tired.”

            “You’re always tired.”  
            _You’re an exhausting person to fuck._

“What does that mean?”

            _It means you have too much stamina and you need to calm down._

            “Calm down?” Shion was laughing again. Another version of a smile. A smile with sound. He touched his lips. “And stamina is a good thing.”

            _Yeah, well, not when – Oh. Do you have to leave?_

            Shion didn’t know what made Nezumi suddenly think this. He himself had been trying to avoid the thought for a while.

            “Not yet,” Shion said quietly. He touched his lips to the pillow.

            Nezumi looked at him again. “Not yet,” he repeated.

            “Not if you read.”

            Nezumi’s eyes shifted back and forth between Shion’s. Shion liked when he did this. Like Nezumi was reading him.

            Like Shion was words on a page. Ink on paper. Black on white. Nothing but syllables and sound Nezumi would shape with his voice.

            _You’ll stay if I read?_

            Shion nodded against the pillow.

            He would stay either way. He would stay forever, if Nezumi would look at him like that, with eyes that shifted back and forth.

            Grey eyes. Long eyelashes that curled. When he blinked, Shion liked to watch the way his eyelashes moved.

            Nezumi sat up in slow, gradual movements. Shion was glad for this. The movements took more time. More time for Shion to lie still and watch him. More time for Shion to stay.

            When Nezumi was sitting up against the headboard, he pulled the blanket around his waist, almost absentmindedly, and Shion reached out, pulled it back down to Nezumi’s knees.

            Shion was lying on his side now. Looked up at Nezumi and was smiling and couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop.

            _Pervert._

            Shion laughed.

            He closed his eyes as Nezumi leaned over the side of the bed, looking for a book. There was the sound of Nezumi’s fingers shifting the pages. The friction of pages against each other. The mattress moved, Nezumi settling himself.

            _It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife._

            Calming.

            Shion never wanted to move. Never wanted time to pass. This moment, forever, would be rapture.

            _“Which do you mean” and turning round, he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said, “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me…”_

            Time stopped. Or rather, it disappeared. Ceased to exist. There was only Nezumi’s voice in his head, and the sound of flipping pages, and the softer sound of Nezumi’s finger skating over the page, touching the words before he read them. There was Nezumi’s breaths, even and light, but Shion could hear them if he listened very closely, and he did, he listened very closely.

            _Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place where nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste._       

            With Nezumi skipping passages, with the way Shion knew he flipped both back and forth in the book, contradicting any chronological attempt of the plot, there could be no telling how much time was passing. There could be no proof that the day was winding down. There could be no evidence of the afternoon, sneaking up on them.

            There could be none of that.

            _Elizabeth was much too embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”_

            There were points where Shion almost fell asleep. He did not attribute his fatigue to time passing. He attributed it to the calm he felt, the slow beat of his heart, so relaxed that it could have stopped without his notice.

            Nezumi’s thoughts, too, faltered. Slowed. The voice in Shion’s head became sluggish, weighted.

            But still, Nezumi read, and still, Shion listened.

            _“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”_

            There were Nezumi’s fingers in Shion’s hair. Shion didn’t remember when Nezumi had put them there. It didn’t matter. Time, he remembered, wasn’t important.

            What was important was Nezumi’s touch, familiar, right. Fingers woven in Shion’s hair, cool and then warm.

            Shion fell asleep, feeling this touch, thinking to himself even as unconsciousness pulled him that he would stay awake forever in order to keep feeling it.

*

“Shion.”

            _Wake up._

            Shion woke, shivering.

            He sneezed and looked at the hand on his shoulder, the long fingers.

            “I’m cold,” he said, to the fingers.

            “You fell asleep naked with sweat on you on top of damp sheets,” Nezumi said, but he got off the bed and returned with a sweater.

            Shion took it gratefully, pulled it on as he sat up.

            “What time is it?”

            “Don’t know.” Nezumi was holding Shion’s phone and looked at it. “Nine thirty.”

            “Nine thirty?” Shion couldn’t figure out if that meant morning or night. He didn’t know what made more sense. “Why are you holding my phone?” he asked instead, because the issue of time was too confusing to grapple with.

            “You got like twenty calls. I think someone’s worried about you,” Nezumi said, back on the bed, sitting in front of Shion with one leg dangling over the edge, the other bent at the knee.

            He wore sweats but not a shirt. Shion wrapped his hand around Nezumi’s ankle, over the sweats, just because he wanted to touch him.

            “What time is it?” Shion asked. He knew he’d asked it before, but he was still confused.

            “Nine thirty.” Nezumi reached out and touched Shion’s lips with the pad of his thumb, rubbing his fingerprint over Shion’s skin before taking his hand away.

            It was an unexpected gesture, strange and nonsensical, but Shion liked it. The odd, brief, almost hard touch of Nezumi’s finger.

            “What does that mean?”

            _Is he still half-asleep?_

            “It means you should call back Safu, her name’s been lighting up your phone. And your mom, too, I’m assuming that’s who you’ve got in your contacts under Mom.”

            “My mom called?” Shion asked. He took his phone because Nezumi held it out to him.

            “I’m assuming she expected her son home by now,” Nezumi said slowly.

            _Leaving again._

            “Oh. Oh,” Shion said, understanding in a slow but climbing wave.

            It was not five months before. He did not live in the city. He lived at home with his mother, and she had been expecting him because he’d texted her right before Safu bid him goodbye at the door of her apartment.

            “Oh. Shit.”

            “Yeah,” Nezumi said, and then he was getting off the bed.

            Shion looked at his phone, and at that moment it lit up with a call from Safu.

            Shion answered it. “Hi.”

            “Where the hell have you been? Oh my god, you’re alive, I thought – You know I thought – I was going crazy and I thought – I don’t know, I worry about you driving in the city, what if the thoughts of other drivers gets distracting and you just ram into the side of a – ”

            “Safu! Safu, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Shion insisted, laughing slightly, unsure why he was laughing, maybe it was the unexpectedness of such an unraveled rant from Safu, maybe it was because it felt like he had laughter stored inside him and it just escaped out.

            “Why are you laughing?” Safu snapped, angry now. “Shion, I was worried sick, it’s nine thirty at night, it’s five hours past the time you should have been home, I sent you half a million texts – ”

            Shion had never heard his friend use such exaggerated hyperbole, and it was this that surprised him enough to jar him to his senses.

            “Hey, listen, I’m sorry, I’m fine, I’m perfectly okay, nothing happened. I’m sorry I worried you, I fell asleep, that’s all.”

            “Fell asleep? At the wheel?”

            “No, no! I’m not driving.”

            “You’re not? Where are you?”

            “I’m – ” Shion glanced around for Nezumi, saw him in the kitchen, his back to Shion. “I’m at – ” He couldn’t lie. “I’m at Nezumi’s.”

            Safu was silent.

            “Safu?”

            “Nezumi, the same Nezumi from last night in the grocery store who didn’t want to talk to you? From, from – _Your_ Nezumi, that Nezumi?”

            “Well, yes. I only know one Nezumi. I don’t think it’s a common name.”

            “What are you doing at Nezumi’s?” Safu asked, sounding completely bewildered.

            Shion blinked at his bare feet. He pulled down the hem of Nezumi’s sweater, thankful it was big on him.

            “Um. I’m sure whatever you’re thinking is probably correct,” Shion hedged, not wanting to talk about having sex with Nezumi when Nezumi was in the kitchen, which was really only a few feet from the bed.

            “You’re still at Nezumi’s right now?”

            “Yes.”

            “Is he there?”

            “He’s – Did you want to talk to him?” Shion asked, confused. He scooched back against the headboard, pulled his knees up to his chest, and tugged Nezumi’s sweater to cover them, tucking his legs into the fabric warmed from his torso.

            “No, I don’t want to talk to him. I’ll let you go then. Next time you secretly rendezvous at Nezumi’s after you promised you’d text me when you got home, please remember to let me know you’re alive, all right? And have you called your mother?”

            “No, not yet, I was about to when you called.”

            “Call her,” Safu said, and then she hung up.

            Shion stared at the phone, surprised she’d hung up.

            _Cute._

            “You’ll stretch my sweater,” Nezumi said, at the side of the bed, and then he was sitting on the edge of the bed in front of Shion, holding out a mug of tea for him.

            Shion took it, braced it on one of his knees, on top of Nezumi’s sweater.

            “Thank you. I have to call my mom still.”

            “Okay. Should I give you space, or – ”

            “No, stay, it’ll be quick,” Shion said, and Nezumi nodded, pulled both his legs onto the mattress and sat cross-legged in front of Shion’s feet.

            Shion watched Nezumi sip his tea. The man’s thoughts were silent.

            He called his mother, not even thinking about the fact that he had to tell her something until she picked up.

            “Honey? Are you all right? Where are you?”

            “I’m fine, I’m sorry, Mom, I forgot to text you, I’m still in the city.”

            “You’re still in Tokyo?”

            “Yeah.”

            “But Safu – ”

            “I’m not with Safu. I’m – ” Shion peeked up at Nezumi, who watched him with steady eyes.

            Nezumi raised his eyebrows, though the rest of his expression remained neutral.

            _To tell her or not to tell her._

            Shion chewed on his lip. “Um. I’m with…someone else.”

            “An old classmate? Why didn’t you let me know? Shion, that’s fine, you know I don’t mind, but if you tell me you’re coming home, and Safu too, she was worried sick – ”

            “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t plan on – I just sort of, ran into him.”

            Nezumi’s lips rose, but he lifted his tea, hid his smirk in a sip so that Shion wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.

            “Did you not have your phone on?”

            Shion tilted his head back against the wall. “Mom, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to it, it was on silent. I’m really sorry, it won’t happen again.”

            “Okay, I know, you’ve never done something like this, but I was just worried, honey, all right, you need to understand – ”

            “I do, I do, I understand.”

            “Well. All right. When will you be home then? I don’t want you driving in the dark.”

            “Oh. Um. Is – Is tomorrow all right then? I know I was supposed to bake, but – ”

            “Don’t worry about that, honey. I’d rather you drove tomorrow than tonight, you’d get in past midnight, I don’t like that. Do you have somewhere to spend the night? Are you going back to Safu’s or staying with your friend?”

            “With my friend,” Shion said, after a moment. He watched the steam rise from his mug of tea.

            “Okay. Text me tomorrow when you’re leaving, okay? I love you.”

            “I love you too. Sorry again.” Shion hung up, tossed his phone away from him on Nezumi’s bed, groaned lightly.

            “We’re friends now?” Nezumi asked.

            “Can I stay here tonight?” Shion asked, peeking at him.

            “Sure.”

            “Sorry. I know you weren’t expecting this.”

            “I don’t care,” Nezumi said, shrugging.

            _Stay._

            Shion took a sip of his tea. It warmed him, sunk into him. “Sorry I fell asleep.”

            “You can stop apologizing.”

            Shion smiled into his mug. He rested it on his knees, cupped his hands around it. The warmth of it filled the creases of his palms.

            “Can I suggest something?” he asked.

            _What?_

            Nezumi rested his own mug of tea on his crossed ankles.

            “It’s something to consider, that’s all,” Shion hedged. He took another sip of tea to warm himself again, missing the feeling.

            _Get to the point._

             Nezumi had woven his hair into a braid. Shion wondered when he’d done this.

            “We could do this every once in a while. I could drive up here. Spend a night with you. Every other weekend, it wouldn’t be bad. Four hours isn’t bad.”

            Shion had not let himself fully think about what he was saying before he said it.

            He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted Nezumi to think about it, and he wanted Nezumi’s thoughts to fill his head.

            _Why? What’s the point?_

            Nezumi looked down at his tea. Shion didn’t know if his thoughts had been accidental or intentional.

            He pressed his palms harder against the curve of his mug. Kept going.

            “I’m not saying we’d be – It would just be what it is now. Sex. Casual. What we’ve been doing. It wouldn’t make sense to be in a relationship or anything like that, I’m not proposing that, but I like seeing you, and I don’t think it’s much trouble to drive a few hours every other weekend, twice a month, that’s not bad, it wouldn’t be hard.”

            The words he received from Nezumi’s head were not Nezumi’s thoughts.

            They were Shion’s words, repeated in Nezumi’s head, and therefore repeated in Shion’s head, coated in Nezumi’s voice.

            _Sex. Casual. What we’ve been doing. Wouldn’t make sense to be in a relationship. I like seeing you. I like seeing you._

            Nezumi didn’t look up from his tea. But he reached up. Tucked loose strands that hadn’t made it into his braid behind his ear.

            “I just…I thought I would stop thinking about you after I left the city. But I haven’t. And if we could see each other a few times a month, if it wouldn’t be inconvenient for either of us, then that would just make sense, right?” Shion proposed.

            He didn’t know if his words made sense. He didn’t receive anything from Nezumi to tell him so.

            Just his own words, again.     

            _I thought I would stop thinking about you. I haven’t. It wouldn’t be inconvenient. Just make sense._

            “Nezumi, say something. Or think something more useful to me than my own words,” Shion insisted. He lifted his tea, pulled up Nezumi’s sweater to free his knees, crossed his legs and scooched forward until his knees hit Nezumi’s. He nudged Nezumi’s right knee with his left.

            When Nezumi looked at him, his bangs covered his eyes.

            Shion reached back, used the tip of his forefinger to push them away, tuck them behind Nezumi’s ear. Pale skin, dark strands.

            “If you don’t want to, just tell me. I can see that it would be inconvenient. Time consuming, even. Not to mention, if you did want to get involved with someone, you know, like for real, it might feel awkward to have to tell me to not come over anymore, or vice versa, or – Well, I don’t know. And I know we started temporarily, it was just three months, we both knew I was going to leave, that made it simpler, and I’m complicating it, or proposing a complication, rather, but – You’re not cutting me off, usually by now you’ll have cut me off, you should cut me off,” Shion said.

            He watched Nezumi watch him. He curled his toes, uncurled them, curled them again.

             “It would just be sex,” he added quietly, when Nezumi still didn’t cut him off, neither out loud nor in his thoughts. “I’m not trying to complicate anything, or force you into anything, it would just be the same, but I’d drive here instead of walking over from my apartment, and it’d only be a few times a month. But really, the same. In essence, the same.”

            Nezumi was still silent. Shion tugged on the leg of Nezumi’s sweats.

            “Okay. Should we just pretend I didn’t say anything? We can do that.”

            There was a pause, then –

            _Okay._

            “Okay, pretend I didn’t say anything?”

            _Okay, drive up here if you want. It’s your time, it’s your gas money, I don’t care._

_Yes._

_Yes._

_Yes._

            Nezumi looked away from him again, turning to stare at the wall, and Shion turned too, but there was nothing there, a blank wall, no window, no décor.

            Shion preferred Nezumi’s profile. The silhouette familiar, the curve from his hairline that made his forehead, the jut of his brow, the slope inward of the bridge of his nose, then out again, the tip of his nose, back in for his upper lip, small arches to create the tiny bow of his lips, another curve into his chin, the sudden slope underneath his chin, his neck.

            “You’re sure?” Shion asked, even though he could hear clearly in Nezumi’s thoughts that he was sure.

            He wanted to hear it again. Wanted his head full of Nezumi’s thoughts, of Nezumi’s agreement, of Nezumi’s desire for him.

            _Of course, idiot. Yes._

            Shion lifted his mug to hide his smile. When he sipped, it was empty.

            He was warm anyway. Filled to the brim with it, expanding with it, warmth pulling at his bones, jostling them out of place, pushing his organs to make room for itself, warmth as a solid thing, warmth as something permanent, settling inside himself to stay awhile.

*

When Shion first began sleeping beside Nezumi, it took getting used to.

            He’d never slept beside anyone in his life.

            The presence of another body in itself was peculiar. The warmth that radiated from it, the shifts in the mattress that were not from Shion’s own body, the sounds that were not his own sounds, the movements he didn’t plan, strange to him, not his own, but so close to him that they might as well have been.

            The fact, too, that there was someone beside him attempting to sleep, as he was. Shion had to regulate his own movements. Not shift when he needed to. Not cough when he felt the urge. Every movement was a debate – would it bother the man beside him?

            To sleep beside someone else took thought. A careful consideration of position, where his arms might lie, where his legs should be. Consideration of the blanket, if he had too much, if he had too little.

            The heat of the other person another a factor in itself, not to cover himself too much because he would be hot, he would sweat, he would be tangled in the other body and he would not sleep at all for the warmth of him, unbearable in its constant lack of relief.

            Shion had slowly learned to sleep beside another person. To forget to be conscious of his own body. To learn Nezumi’s so well he was no longer conscious of the other man’s body either. It became more natural to push the blanket off of him, knowing he would have more than enough warmth from Nezumi’s arms when they wound around him in the night, from Nezumi’s legs when they slipped between his inevitably.

            To hear the sounds Nezumi made – his breathing, his shuffling, the shouts of his nightmares, his sighs – became more natural than silence. To be without them became something Shion had to learn all over again, when he left the city five months before.

            To relearn Nezumi that night in his apartment was not as it had been the first night. It was simple, easy, natural. It didn’t have to be relearned at all.

            Shion fell asleep beside Nezumi that night feeling as though he hadn’t slept in months, at least not properly, at least not as he was meant to, at least not like this – with Nezumi’s body reaching out to his, jostling his, touching his, relaxing against his, falling asleep beside his.

*

Leaving in the morning was not incredibly difficult, because it was not really leaving.

            It was going for a while with the promise of returning.

            Nezumi walked Shion to his car at the parking garage, was on the way to rehearsal anyway. Beside Shion’s car, Nezumi pulled Shion by his t-shirt, kissed him very faintly, so it was almost as though there was no kiss at all.     

            _Soft._

            “Drive safely,” Nezumi said.

            Shion touched his lips and he wondered if he’d been kissed.

            “I will. I guess – I’ll text you then? I’ll probably come in two weeks, but if something comes up – Or should I confirm closer to the weekend?”

            _Just come._

            Nezumi stuck his hand in his pocket. Pulled out a key. “Take it. Come whenever, if you can’t make it in two weekends, then don’t come, you don’t need to text. Whenever you come, just let yourself in if I’m not in.”

            “You don’t want me to let you know? What if – What if you have plans?” Shion asked. He looked at the key but didn’t take it.

            _Plans?_

            Nezumi’s smirk was tilted, a little unfamiliar, almost uncertain.

            “I’m sure I’ll be able to fit you in.”

            Shion took the key. He would text Nezumi anyway, just in case.

            There was always the possibility that Nezumi would meet someone. That Shion popping in unannounced would not be a welcome surprise.

            It was odd to think about Nezumi meeting anyone. To consider Nezumi with anyone.         

            Would Nezumi’s laugh surprise that person every time, the way it surprised Shion? Would Nezumi muffle his laughter in that person’s skin so that they’d shake with it, feel the warmth of it slip right down into them, the way Shion felt?

            Would Nezumi weave his fingers through that person’s hair, leave them there as if he’d forgotten them, as if they were right where they belonged and Nezumi had no other use for his own hand but to touch Shion with it?

            Would Nezumi shake against that person after his nightmares, tighten his arms around that person, pull that person closer, closer, closer until that person hurt, until that person couldn’t breathe, the way Shion hurt, the way Shion could not breathe when Nezumi cried into his chest?

            Would Nezumi pull that person into a dance, startling that person as that person walked out from the bathroom in the middle of the night, when that person thought Nezumi was still asleep, when that person was still halfway asleep themselves, but quickly wakened by Nezumi’s arms, his hands, his body, moving slowly and then quickly and spinning that person until they laughed and wondered what they were doing dancing at three in the morning, or more likely, wondered what they had been doing every other day at three in the morning when they could have been dancing in the dark with a man whose smile felt like moonlight on their lips?

            Would Nezumi be quiet with that person in the mornings, but in the nights more talkative, open up slowly the darker the skies were painted as if he saved his voice for the stars?

            Would Nezumi look at that person with grey eyes that were steady, grey eyes that were soft, grey eyes that were heavy, grey eyes that were light, and would that person think there was no greater offering in the world than to be looked at by Nezumi, to have Nezumi’s attention, to have Nezumi’s focus, sole and intense and a burning thing that person could feel, the way Shion could feel it, like the sun was in the place of his heart?

            “Shion.”

            _Shion?_

            “Sorry, what?” Shion asked. There was a key in his hand. He curled his palm around it, the edges cool and jagged on his skin.

            _You spaced out. What were you thinking?_

            “Oh, sorry. I’m still a little tired, I think.”

            _Liar._

“Why would I lie about being tired?”

            Nezumi tucked his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. I have to get going to rehearsal.”

            “Yeah, I should go too.”

            Nezumi nodded. He looked at Shion, and his mind was quiet.

            Shion slipped the key in his pocket. “I’ll see you, then.”

            _See you._

            Shion turned away first, got into his car, was starting it and glancing at Nezumi’s back in the rearview mirror when he heard Nezumi’s voice again, inside his head.

            _Should have kissed him longer._

            Shion bit down on the inside of his cheek, rolled the skin between his teeth. He drove out the parking garage, listening for more of Nezumi’s thoughts, receiving nothing.

            Outside the garage, sunlight struck the windows relentlessly. It was warm on Shion’s face, felt so incredible he didn’t mind at all that it was nearly blinding.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quoted books in order of appearance:
> 
> Moby Dick by Herman Melville  
> Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury  
> The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka  
> Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Shion came back to the city after his agreement with Nezumi, he met Safu first, getting lunch with her during her break.      

            Even though it was Saturday, Safu worked. Her internship was demanding, but she seemed to love it, and Shion read her thoughts with an odd tightening in his stomach he could not decipher until after he hugged her goodbye.

            Jealousy.

            His best friend knew what she wanted, loved it, was going to do great things.         

            Shion watched the people in the city as he walked to Nezumi’s to distract himself, and quickly enough, he forgot everything he was thinking of, his head throbbing by the time he reached Nezumi’s apartment.

            He didn’t knock. He’d gotten to the building just as another tenant was leaving, hadn’t needed Nezumi to buzz him in, and he didn’t need Nezumi to let him in either.

            The key was already in his hand. Damp from his tightened palm. He pushed it into the lock, turned, and opened Nezumi’s door.

            “Nezumi?” Shion listened not for Nezumi’s voice, but his thoughts.

            He received neither in response.

            He closed the door behind him. The clock on the microwave said it was a quarter past one. Nezumi had rehearsal, then a play that night. Shion had texted him the day before, despite Nezumi telling him it wouldn’t be necessary.

            _– Are you free this weekend for me to spend Saturday night? I’d probably meet Safu for lunch and come afterward, around one. –_

            Nezumi’s response had been simple.

            _– Yes –_

The emptiness of Nezumi’s apartment was a relief. Shion pressed his fingers to his forehead, pushing his temples. He opened Nezumi’s kitchen cabinets, then went to the bathroom, opened the small cabinet behind the mirror.

            It was empty.

            Shion splashed his face with water. He’d be fine without painkillers. He’d dealt with the overwhelming voices of the city before. He’d dealt with too many voices in his head for nearly five years.

             He toed off his shoes. Nezumi’s bed was unmade, the blanket a cluster by the foot of it.

            Shion didn’t need it. He was hot. He sat on Nezumi’s bed, against the headboard, tilted his head back and closed his eyes and breathed.

            It was mid-June. He was running out of new pastries to make in his mother’s bakery. There were only so many left to discover, and most new recipes he found were no longer a challenge, just a new combination of skills he’d previously perfected.

            Shion opened his eyes. Looked beside him, and there was a stack of books. Shion reached out to it.

            Reading was not the same without Nezumi’s voice around the words. But in the months after he’d left the city, Shion had become accustomed to it again, just the ink on pages, just the black on white, just the soundlessness of letters.

            He didn’t care to look at the title of the book he chose, and he did not care to start on the first page.

            He flipped through it, wanting the senselessness of words with no meaning, of characters unknown to him.

            _He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself._

            If Shion closed his eyes when he flipped through the pages, the sound of it was just as if Nezumi was the one flipping with long fingers.

            _….I see now that this has been a story of the West, after all – Tom and Gatsby, Daisy and Jordan and I, were all Westerners, and perhaps we possessed some deficiency in common which made us subtly unadaptable to Eastern life._

            The more Shion read, the less he understood what he was reading. Flipping back and forth in the text, the more lost he became, the easier it was to forget his own thoughts, the easier it was to forget the thoughts of everyone else he’d ever heard.

            _So he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that a seventeen year old boy would be likely to invent, and to this conception he was faithful to the end._

            Shion stopped focusing even on the meaning of the passages he read. Stopped trying to make sense of the sentence as a sentence on its own. Stopped trying to understand even the word he read as he read it. Wanting only the letters, an odd jumble of them, wanted them to be completely nonsensical, completely devoid of any meaning.        

            _I hope she’ll be a fool – that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool._

            Shion did not notice the sound of a key in the lock of Nezumi’s door. He was immersed in the letters, held the book up close to his face, felt as if he were trying to decipher hieroglyphics, shapes unknown to him.

            _It eluded us, then, but that’s no matter – tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther –_

            “Did they reach the green light yet?”

            Shion dropped the book, his hand slamming to his chest.

            “Nezumi.”

            _Startled. Cute._

            “I’ve been staring at you for a good five minutes. Didn’t know you were so into the disillusionment of the past and the constant lure of its unattainable perfection.”

            “What?” Shion was still catching his breath.

            “Hungry?” Nezumi asked, holding up bags of groceries, and Shion watched Nezumi walk to the kitchen before he pushed himself off the bed and followed him.

            There were two grocery bags. The first held only a gallon of milk. Nezumi emptied the second bag one item at a time.

            Bunch of bananas. Six pack of toilet paper rolls. Block of cheddar cheese. Bag of sliced bread – whole wheat. Two cans of tuna. Carton of eggs.

            “So are you just going to stare or are you going to start putting some stuff away?”

            Shion grabbed the bag of bread and opened the fridge. “I thought you hated tuna.”

            “I do. How long have you been here?”

            The microwave claimed it was quarter to eleven, which was somewhat shocking to Shion.

            “Um, almost ten hours, apparently.”

            “Ten hours? Have you eaten anything? What have you been doing that entire time?”

            “I think I was trying to teach myself not to read,” Shion admitted. The words sounded strange only after he heard them leave his lips.

            _What the hell does that mean?_

            Shion chose not to answer, picking up the cans of tuna. “Where should I put these?”

            “Anywhere,” Nezumi said, waving his hand and turning to face Shion fully.

            _What’s wrong?_

            “Nothing’s wrong.” Shion opened the cupboard above his head. It held two plates and a couple mugs. He knew this, had forgotten. He put the cans of tuna on top of the small stack of plates, closed the cupboard again.

            _Liar._

            Shion pressed the base of his palm against his forehead. Didn’t look at Nezumi. There was a small oil stain on Nezumi’s stove. Shion couldn’t think of what Nezumi might have been cooking. He didn’t think Nezumi cooked.

            _You look exhausted._

            “I’m not.”

            _I don’t enjoy being lied to._

            Shion pressed his palm harder against his forehead. Closed his eyes.

            “When I was walking back from meeting Safu, I looked at too many people. It just – Sometimes it overwhelms me, I get headaches. It’s not a big deal, I’m used to it.”

            _Headaches? Since when?_

            Shion opened his eyes. Looked at Nezumi, the flicker of his grey eyes, realized that for as long as he’d known Nezumi, he’d rarely seen the man outside of one of their apartments.

            In an enclosed space, with only their voices. On the rare occasions they’d walked through the city, Shion had found it easy to look only at Nezumi, to see no one else.

            “Why did you try to teach yourself not to read?” Nezumi’s words were slow, almost wary.

            “I didn’t. I don’t know why I said that, that’s probably impossible anyway. It’s easier sometimes to look at books because it’s only words there, and they’re not – they don’t overwhelm – they’re just ink on paper, so I don’t feel as – I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m fine, I usually take painkillers, but you don’t have any, it’s fine.”    

            _Why didn’t I know this?_          

            “It’s not anything to know.”

            “Let me go out and get some Advil,” Nezumi said, and Shion grabbed his wrist.

            “Don’t, it’s fine, you don’t need to – ” He glanced at the coffee can on the counter beside the stove, felt his skin burning, quickly looked away – not quick enough.

            Nezumi jerked his wrist from Shion’s hand.

            _I can afford a goddamn bottle of pills._

            “I know, I didn’t mean – I don’t have a headache anymore, I’m really fine now. I just don’t want you to leave, that’s all.”

            Nezumi’s eyes were narrowed.

            _Liar._

            Shion shook his head. “I’m not,” he managed.

            “Whatever, Shion,” Nezumi muttered, shaking his head and opening a cupboard, seemingly at random, slamming it closed again.

            _Full of bullshit –_

            “Nezumi – ”

            _What?_

            Shion tried not to flinch from the harshness of Nezumi’s voice in his head.

            Nezumi had opened another cupboard, was glaring into it.

            Shion looked down at the stain on the stove again. Tried to think of a shape he could assign to it, but didn’t look like anything but a stain.

            “I didn’t tell you about getting overwhelmed because – because with you I could forget about that part of my life. When I met you, I’d only dropped out of college the week before. I was still – I still feel – ”

            Restless. Useless. Aimless. Lost. Disappointing.

            Shion looked up, but the cupboard Nezumi had opened hid his expression. His long fingers on the door loosened their grip.

            “I can – I’ll tell you now, if you want to know,” Shion offered.

            He was changing the subject from the coffee can. From the two bags of groceries, when one was just a gallon of milk and Nezumi’s cupboards were empty of food otherwise. From the cans of tuna when Shion knew Nezumi hated canned fish, but he also knew it was cheap protein.

            Shion didn’t understand altogether why Nezumi didn’t have much money. He was a major actor in major productions. The theater where he worked was the largest in Tokyo, and Tokyo was the largest city in the country. He had to be making good money, but clearly there was something missing from the equation Shion tried to work out in his head, something Nezumi did not want to tell him, and he didn’t have to.

            They weren’t friends. They weren’t boyfriends. Shion didn’t know what they were.

            They were people who spent time together. Passed hours together. Afternoons and nights and slivers of mornings.

            They left the rest of their lives behind, when they were together. The worries and the problems didn’t exist. Time didn’t exist.

            Nothing existed but the other person, and it was such a relief, it was so incredibly calming.

            But maybe that couldn’t last.

            Nezumi closed the cupboard. He looked at Shion, and Shion heard every single one of his thoughts, even though he knew, instantly, on hearing them, that they weren’t thoughts meant for him to hear.

            _He’s tired. Exhausted. Take care of him._

            “Did you eat today, Shion?”

            Shion swallowed. He felt oddly as though he couldn’t speak, so he settled on nodding.

            “When?”

            “Um. Noon.” He cleared his throat. Something felt stuck in it.

            “Go sit down on the bed, I’m going to make you something. I’ll bring you tea in a minute, go on.”

            Shion didn’t argue. He returned to Nezumi’s bed, but had just sat on it for ten hours, felt wary of lying on it again and chose instead to stretch beside it, the stretches he did in the mornings before his jogs.

            While he stretched, there were Nezumi’s thoughts.

            _Always been something wrong. He told me I was a distraction. Better that way. Give him a break. Clearly needs one. Is he okay? Sure he is, has to be._

            After a minute or so, Nezumi’s thoughts quieted, and there was nothing in Shion’s head. He was reaching out for his toes and breathing deeply when Nezumi socks appeared beside his outstretched legs.

            “What are you doing?” Nezumi crouched, and a mug of tea was placed beside Shion’s knee.

            “Stretching.”

            “Mmm,” Nezumi hummed. He didn’t say anything else and walked back to the kitchen.

            Five stretches later, Shion’s tea had cooled down enough to drink, and he sipped it slowly, sitting on the edge of Nezumi’s bed now, his knees bent over the edge and his feet on the floor.

            He watched Nezumi’s back, the stretch of his t-shirt across it, as he made eggs in the kitchen.

            Eggs. That was what Nezumi cooked. That was what he’d used the stove for.

            Shion felt marginally better, locating the origin of the stain. He felt his shoulders drop as he relaxed, and then Nezumi was beside him, offering a plate of eggs and toast, holding a plate of his own.

            “Thank you.”

            They ate silently, sitting on the edge of Nezumi’s bed, and then Nezumi took their plates, returned to the kitchen to wash them, returned back to Shion and sat beside him again.

            Their shoulders brushed.

            “You don’t need to tell me anything.”

            “You don’t want to know?” Shion asked his knees.

            _I want every thought you have._

            “What does it matter what I want?” Nezumi asked, his voice light, and Shion didn’t care to look at his knees when there was Nezumi beside him.

            Long eyelashes, curled. Thin lips, opening.

            “We’re just having sex,” Nezumi said, and the words sounded like an echo, words Shion had told him more than Nezumi’s own words.

            “Yeah,” Shion agreed. It was easier this way. Nezumi would remain something calming, his thoughts empty of Shion’s own worries, of any worries at all.

            “Our kisses will taste like eggs,” Shion added.

            Nezumi’s eyes flickered between Shion’s, and then he stood up from the bed, disappeared into the bathroom, not turning on the light, not closing the door behind him, emerging not a second later and back on the bed.

            _Hold out your finger._

            Shion did as he was told, and the glob of toothpaste Nezumi squirted on the tip of it was cool.

            Nezumi did the same for himself, tossed the toothbrush tube beside his books.

            “You have a toothbrush,” Shion reminded.

            “I regret not using it, this is useless,” Nezumi said, around his finger in his mouth, his words distorted by it, and Shion smiled around his own finger in his own mouth.

            After they rubbed toothpaste over their teeth, their kisses tasted of a mixture of mint and eggs, worse than just eggs might have been, but each breath was fresh and cool and tingled just a little, and Shion liked this added sensation.

            It was distracting, and that was all Nezumi was.

            A distraction. A distraction that Shion liked, a distraction that Shion thought about often, a distraction that filled up his head with a voice he couldn’t describe.

            Toothpaste. Green lights. Lies.

            He didn’t need to describe it. It was enough to have this voice coat his mind, thinking only descriptions of Shion, his body, the feel of him under fingertips and lips and limbs. They laid back on the bed, undressing each other, touching each other, so familiar and so worn into each other’s fingertips that it only made sense to fit themselves back into the grooves they had created in the other.

*

With September came the sense of needing to leave home, like Shion was a migratory bird, the calling towards the city at what was supposed to be the start of his third year of college a stirring in his chest he couldn’t shake.

            Shion did leave home. He drove to the city as if he was going to campus. He parked in the same parking garage where he’d parked during his year and two weeks of university. He walked to his old apartment building and looked up at it, then went to his college campus, walked around it and looked at all the students who milled with their backpacks, sweating cups of iced coffee wetting their palms with dew drops, cell phones tucked into back pockets, the wires of their ear buds catching in their own fingers when they saw a friend across the street and waved.

            Shion caught all of their thoughts. New classes, the dining hall, professors, dorms, roommates, the cost of schoolbooks and the weight of them in the backpacks they lugged everywhere they walked.

            There were other thoughts. Missing home. Boyfriends who went to school across the country, girlfriends who wanted to take a break this semester, best friends who didn’t seem like best friends anymore despite the number of popsicles shared and the miles ridden on their bikes every summer growing up in their small home towns.

            Thoughts of deaths in the family, growing grey clouds they couldn’t shake, loneliness, wonder at how everyone else looked so happy on campus, everyone else walked with a friend when they walked on their own. Thoughts of self-consciousness, shirts sticking too closely to their bodies, mother’s reminder over text not to eat so badly this semester because last semester’s terrible eating habits showed.

            Thoughts of acne, dry skin. Thoughts of wondering if their virginity would finally be lost or if they’d have to keep lying to their friends, if they’d ever have a first kiss or if that was only something that happened to other people. Thoughts of anger that they weren’t someone else, jealousy that it was easier for everyone else, wonder if their life would ever be the way they knew it was supposed to be – full of laughter, full of adventure, full of love.

            Shion heard all of their thoughts. Looked at people longer than usual, listened to more. The helplessness hurt, the loneliness hurt, the longing hurt. He felt everything that everyone felt, their thoughts so intimately in his own head that he couldn’t help but wonder if they were his own thoughts as well, stemmed from somewhere inside him he couldn’t locate, experiences he’d had but couldn’t remember.

            He knew better than to do this. To come into the city and look, see, hear. He knew he’d have headaches, he knew it’d be too much.

            But he hated the shelter of his mother’s kitchen. He hated the calm of Nezumi’s apartment. He hated the apathy he forced onto himself because it hurt too much to feel empathy, even if it was too much at once, even if it was everyone at once, even though it only made him feel hopeless in the end.

            The theater was still showing _My Fair Lady._ Shion had seen the opening show two weeks before. When his temples throbbed, he went straight to Nezumi’s apartment, let himself in, kicked off his shoes and peeled off his clothes and took a shower, standing in the spray and not moving.

            Steam filled every corner of the bathroom. Shion finally moved. He picked up Nezumi’s shampoo bottle, opened it, smelled it without using any. He read the ingredients on the back, a list of unfamiliar words.

            He placed it back and turned off the water, abruptly aware that he’d used too much, hiked up Nezumi’s water bill.

            Despite his guilt, he allowed himself relief. Stepped out of the shower and pulled the mirror open to reveal the cabinet behind it, empty but for a bottle of Advil that had appeared the visit after Shion accidentally confessed his headaches to Nezumi.

            Nezumi had said nothing about it, and neither had Shion.

            In his head he’d thought – _Thank you –_ but that was useless. Nezumi could not read minds.

            Shion was asleep when Nezumi came home. Shion woke to fingers in his hair and gentle thoughts.

            _Soft. Peaceful. White eyelashes. Warm._

            Shion stirred, and the thoughts silenced.

            He opened his eyes. Nezumi laid beside him, fully clothed, above the blanket.

            “Hi.”

            _Hey._

            “How was your show?”

            _Fine. How was your day?_

            “Fine.” Shion’s headache throbbed in a faint way, diluted by the meds and sleep, persistent all the same.

            He was used to it.

            _I’m happy you’re here._

            “I’m happy too,” Shion said, surprised at the thought – at Nezumi’s thought, escaped from his head into Shion’s, and Shion didn’t know if it was accidental but didn’t care. He wanted to respond to it. To let Nezumi know.

            Here, in Nezumi’s bed, with Nezumi’s long fingers in his hair, he was happy.

            Everything else left behind, he was happy.

            Nothing else mattered, he was happy.

            A month before, Safu had asked Shion what Nezumi had to say about what Shion should do, since dropping out of college, and Shion had informed her that he and Nezumi didn’t talk about that.

            _– Don’t talk about what? –_

_– College, my future, what I’m going to do now. He doesn’t even know why I dropped out. He doesn’t know anything about that part of my life. –_

_– That part of your life? As in, the way your mind reading makes you feel as if there’s too many problems to fix and that anything you do will not be enough? He doesn’t know about your uncertainty about your future? He doesn’t know that mind reading gives you migraines? He doesn’t know that you wish you couldn’t do it? –_

_– Well, no. Nobody knows about that stuff but you, Safu. That’s pretty heavy for Nezumi, I told you, we’re just having sex. –_

_– Except that you’re not because you care about him and he cares about you, and you don’t drive four hours just for sex. But I guess I was incorrect about the two of you. What you’re doing with Nezumi, it’s not real if you can’t even tell him what you’re feeling and the crisis you’re going through right now. –_

            Shion hadn’t been able to tell Safu he wasn’t going through any sort of crisis, because he was.

            Everything she had said, as dramatic as it had seemed spoken back to him, was true. Shion didn’t know what he was doing with his future. He did feel hopeless. He did feel as though anything he tried would not be enough, because how could it be?

            Shion had been for the entirety of his life a man with potential, with expectations upon him of great things. The best candidate for countless problems and worries to be thrust upon him directly every day.

            Wouldn’t it be a waste if he could read minds and do nothing with the thoughts he heard?

            Wasn’t it his responsibility to help the people who needed it, the people whose worries he heard listed out, the people he couldn’t ignore because he had never been able ignore someone in need, to turn away a cry for help – but what if everyone needed help?

            How did he choose? Who was most important? What voice in his head did he respond to, when there were so many, when there were countless voices, every day, endless voices?

            But it was not Safu’s analysis of Shion’s crisis that he couldn’t shake.

            – _What you’re doing with Nezumi, it’s not real –_

            The words rolled on his tongue like hard candy that he sucked until he came to an agreement, an acceptance. Of course Safu was right. She was always right.

            What Shion was doing with Nezumi was not real. Nezumi was what he needed. An escape from what was real.

            Nezumi, who belonged in the shelves of the library. Nezumi, who had new books by his mattress every time Shion came over. Nezumi, who knew how to suppress his own thoughts even from himself. Nezumi, who spent every night coiled in a nightmare. Nezumi, who craved escape with as much desperation as Shion did.

            They were drawn to each other for this shared interest. They calmed each other for this same reason.

            What did it matter if it was real when it felt good? What did it matter if it was real when they were happy? And hadn’t they just confirmed that?

            Together, in small moments, there was happiness.

*

The escape they found in each other lasted until the second week of November.

            Shion looked for a condom. He opened drawers in Nezumi’s kitchen.

            Silverware. A dishtowel, folded. Paper clips. Three hairties. An old script book for _Cats._

            “You were in _Cats_?”

            “Stay focused,” Nezumi called. He was in the bathroom. From inside, a cupboard door slammed.

            “Did you play an actual cat?” Shion picked up the script book. Did not flip through it because underneath was a sheet of paper.

            Not a sheet of paper. A page, ripped out of a novel. A blank page from the beginning or end, but that it wasn’t blank.

            There was careful handwriting recording a column of numbers, dates. At first, nonsensical. The page was soft in Shion’s hand like the book it was torn from had been old, read over and over.

            “I don’t think we’ve got any, you’ll have to go out, I got them last – ”

            _Debt record. He’s reading – Shit._

            “Debt record?” Shion echoed.

            “What are you doing?”

            Calculations at the top of the page, summing up a large number. Slow subtractions made by years. Every year, a new number written, subtracted from the large sum that grew tinier with each year until it reached zero, beside a year that was circled.

            A year that was three years from now.

            Shion was not stupid. He was very intelligent. He had incredible potential and great expectations upon him, and these weights did not burden his shoulders for no reason.

            He understood what he was looking at.

            “Thanks for minding your own business,” Nezumi muttered, the same moment the page was slipped from Shion’s loose fingers.

            “Why do you have so much debt?”

            “I killed a man and paid the witness off.”

            Nezumi’s mind was blank.

            “That’s a lie.”

            “Is it?” Nezumi asked, placing the page back in the drawer, the discarded _Cats_ script book back on top of it.

            “You’re twenty-one years old, you can’t have collected a debt like that, especially not if you were paying it off since you were – ” Shion did the math in his head, recalling the first year the subtractions had been made according to Nezumi’s scribbled calculations – “fifteen years old.”

            “I got into murdering at a young age. Unfortunate, but that’s the city life for you,” Nezumi said smoothly. He opened and closed drawers Shion had just opened and closed.

            _Drop it._

            “This is why you live like this. I knew you must have been making good money with your roles and popularity at the theater, but those numbers subtracted from the total debt each year, that’s got to be around seventy-five percent of your yearly earnings going to whomever you owe this money to.”

            Shion was not pulling percentages out of thin air. He did not pull things out of thin air.

            He researched. Average pays for actors at the theater where Nezumi worked. Above-average pays for above-average actors at the theater where Nezumi worked.

            Nezumi jerked open the fridge. Shion had not checked the fridge, an oversight, as if condoms were naturally stored with butter and milk.

            _If you’re such a genius, why did you drop out of college?_

            Shion froze as Nezumi slammed the fridge door.

            His long fingers wove into dark bangs.

            _Shit._

            “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not my business. I’ll run to the store.” It was cold out, but Nezumi’s apartment was colder. He did not have heat, and the cool air seemed to collect on the walls.

            Nezumi’s hand loosened from his hair. It fell by his side as if he had no control of it.

            _Let’s forget about the condoms._

            Shion ran his finger over Nezumi’s stovetop. He looked at the invisible line he traced instead of Nezumi. “I don’t feel comfortable having sex without a condom.”

            Nezumi’s laugh was not a real laugh at all. “I wasn’t proposing that.”

            _Why? Caught something from some other guy you’re fucking?_

            Shion’s hand dropped off the stovetop. “Why would you say that?”

            “I didn’t say it,” Nezumi said, and when Shion looked at him he found nothing on Nezumi’s face, just as he heard nothing in his own head. “I don’t feel like having sex tonight.”

            “I’m not having sex with anyone else. Are you?” Shion didn’t know why he asked it.

            “Does it matter?”        

            “No.” Shion waited for Nezumi to call him out on his lie. To think, in that way he did – _Liar. –_

            Nezumi did not think this.

            _Reading my thoughts? Waiting for me to think a list of names?_

            “Nezumi – Why – Let’s not talk about this.”

            _I’m not talking. If you want it to stop, stop reading my fucking mind._

            “I can’t stop! Do you think it’s fun to know what people think? Do you think I want to know everything everyone feels?”

            “I don’t know what you want, I’m not the mind reader, remember?”

            Shion closed his eyes because that was what he did when he needed to turn off the voices.

            He wanted to turn off Nezumi’s voice. Nezumi’s voice, angry and sharp. Nezumi’s voice, bitter and harsh. Nezumi’s voice, mean and hurt.

            They didn’t fight. People who didn’t know each other didn’t fight, not in way that mattered because what did they have to fight about?

            Shion didn’t know anything about Nezumi but that he could kiss so roughly Shion’s lips bruised and so softly Shion felt nothing at all within the same breath.

            Shion didn’t know anything about Nezumi but that the insides of his thighs were paler than any other place on his body, snowy and concealed.

            Shion didn’t know anything about Nezumi but that he made lovely sounds when lips were pressed to the points of his pelvis where bone touched skin.

            Shion didn’t know anything about Nezumi but that his best smiles were the ones offered to the pages that he read, soft and secret and stirred by the words inside his head.

            Shion didn’t know anything about Nezumi but that he hated the summer for its heat and the fall for its wind and the winter for its cold and the spring for its temperament.

            Shion didn’t know anything about Nezumi but that he loved the summer for its berries and the fall for its skies and the winter for its moons and the spring for its sunlight.

            Shion didn’t know anything about Nezumi but that he had one nightmare of one night, one memory, one piece of Nezumi’s past – the only one Shion knew. It had not been given to him, but something Shion had taken.

            What Shion knew about Nezumi were not the things that mattered.    They were the breathtaking things, the enchanting things, the beautiful things. People did not fight over beautiful things.

            _I don’t want to fight._

            There were hands around Shion’s wrists, loose. Cool palms and cooler fingertips that skated the insides of his wrists.

            “I don’t want to fight with you.”

            That wasn’t what they did. They fucked. They read. They talked about what didn’t matter.

            _– How was your show? –_

_– Fine. How was your day? –_

_– Fine. –_

            It wasn’t real, and that was why they needed it.

            Shion opened his eyes. “Me neither.”

            Shion’s wrists were pulled. He stepped forward, and then Nezumi let go of his wrists, his arms around Shion’s back.

            Shion had never been hugged by Nezumi. To be in his arms was not completely unfamiliar because he often slept this way, but there was a difference in standing and feeling himself pressed to Nezumi’s chest.

            Nezumi’s lips dipped into his hair. Shion could not hear what he was thinking because he was thinking nothing at all.

            Nezumi let him go slowly. “I’ll get condoms and be right back. All right?”

            Shion did not remind Nezumi that Nezumi had said not five minutes before that he didn’t feel like having sex that night.

            “If you want,” Shion said.

            “I’ll be right back.” Nezumi squeezed Shion’s hand, didn’t let go of it right as he turned away so that he took it with him for half a step, and when he did let go, Shion’s arm was a little outstretched, as if he’d been reaching out.

            Nezumi walked around the small space of his apartment, having to locate each item before he put it on – his boots, his sweater, his jacket, his scarf, his gloves.

            _Cold._

            When he left, Shion had not moved at all.

*

As he had the first time he shared Nezumi’s nightmare, Shion thought as the dream began that it was his own.

            He thought this because Nezumi only had one nightmare, and even in sleep, Shion knew this. He knew that this was not the nightmare Nezumi had. This was not the night Nezumi relived every time he fell asleep. This was not the night Shion shared with him.

            It was a different night. Shion felt scared and cold, which was different than usual, when he felt scared and hot.

            It was winter, and there was snow on the road. He shivered. The tips of his fingers had gone numb. He dug the fingernail of his forefinger into the pad of his thumb and felt nothing at all.

            Someone was following him. He knew this without turning around. That was the way of dreams, but this was not a dream. It was a memory.

            Not one person. Several people. Men. Their laughter was not laughter. It was loud breaths and a threat underneath it.

            Their voices were not voices, but warnings.

            ­ _– Don’t run, little boy –_

_– Where you going, sport? –_

_– It’s late, isn’t it past your bedtime? –_

_– Come, let’s go to sleep –_

_– It’s cold, I’ll keep you warm, kid –_

            Shion was not scared. He was terrified. His heart so loud in his ears he couldn’t hear the voices any longer. He couldn’t hear the laughter. He couldn’t hear the breaths. He couldn’t hear the footsteps.

            His legs hurt. He was dizzy. He hadn’t eaten. His back hurt, but it always hurt. The pain had dulled. He was healing, slowly.

            Faster, faster. He didn’t have shoes. The road hurt, the sidewalk hurt. He ran faster, and so did they, and he knew this because they caught him.

            Slammed against a building. Hand over his mouth, he bit down, hard, was hit in the stomach and the breath knocked out of him.

            His back hurt against the building, and then he was yanked off from it, was half-carried, half-dragged, bare feet against pavement.

            He kicked. There was cloth inside his mouth. Dry and too much and he was choking.

            He could see, but didn’t want to. He knew what was happening but didn’t want to.

            It hadn’t happened yet, but it would. He could hardly breathe. There was a hand around his neck.

            In an alleyway, he was tossed down. A bag of flour, a boy, the same.

            He scrambled up, ran, was caught, hit. He shouted into the cloth and no sound escaped from it.

            Thrown down again, he got up, dragged back by his wrist so hard his shoulder nearly left his socket. The cloth swallowed his cry.

            He wouldn’t let them touch him. They’d try and he’d kill them. He promised himself this. He wouldn’t break his promise. He kept his promises, even though there was no one to make them to anymore.

            They tried to touch him. Above his clothes but their fingers tried to get under and he squirmed, his shoulders hurt, he was pinned down but writhed, kicked, ankles shoved down and heels scraped raw against packed snow, a hand under his shirt and he wet himself and the other hand recoiled with a sharp curse from the wetted clothing over his thigh and someone laughed and they lifted their hand to stifle their own laugh and Shion’s arm was free so he reached not for the men but for the cloth in his mouth, pulled it out, shouted as loud as he could until he was hit and his breath taken and the cloth was back.

            _– Gotta move him inside, he’ll make too much fuss, attract someone. It’s fucking cold besides that –_

_– You kidding me, where they hell you propose we take him? –_

_– I know a place, we’ll keep him there, play with him for a little, no need to rush it all in one night –_

            Shion was hoisted back up. His feet didn’t touch the ground. His shoulders seared. He kicked and wondered if his arms would leave his sockets. If he could detach from them. If he could leave them with the men and take the rest of his body away from them, where they couldn’t touch it.

            It was hard to breathe. It was hard to breathe.

*

It was Shion who woke screaming.

            “Shion! Shion.”

            _God. I’m sorry. Touching. I’m so sorry. Thighs._

            Someone was touching his shoulder, and Shion tried to hit him but his arms felt weak, so he struggled, caught in a blanket, fell off a bed.

            He didn’t know where he was.

            “Get – Get away from – Don’t touch me! Don’t touch – ”

            “Shion, it’s me, it’s okay. It was just – just a nightmare. It was – It was my nightmare.”

            _I’m so sorry. Cold. Cloth. Shit, I’m so – I never thought – I didn’t – Hands. Shirt. I’m sorry. Men. Run. Faster. Shion, I’m sorry, I can’t –_

            “I can’t stop thinking about it, fuck, wait, wait, I have an idea – ”

            _Books. Words. Men. Grabbing – Shit, stop thinking about it or Shion won’t stop thinking about it! Read. Skin. Fingers._

            Shion knew the voice in his head. Abruptly, he was fully awake, aware.

            He was not on a city street covered in snow. There were not men surrounding him.

            He was in Nezumi’s apartment. There was only Nezumi, in a heap on the bed, a book in his hands, opening it with long fingers that shook.

            Nezumi’s face was wet. His fingers fumbled against his eyes.

            _Shit, I can’t see the words. Breaths. Grip. Shit._

            “I’m sorry, hold on, it will be over soon,” Nezumi said. His voice was thick and strained.

            Shion was on the floor. He got up. Climbed onto the bed. The edge.

            His stomach curled. He squeezed his arms around it. The scattered, panicked voice in his head slowly gave way to a more steady rhythm, shaky at first but calming, quickly, with each word.

            Calming.

            _Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past._

            The sound of fingers flipping pages was louder than usual. Shion closed his eyes. Gripped his t-shirt, slick with sweat, to have something to hold.

            _In the end the Party would announce that two and two made five, and you would have to believe it. It was inevitable that they should make that claim sooner or later: the logic of their position demanded it._

            Calming. Shion didn’t open his eyes, but his breaths evened.

            _And when memory failed and written records were falsified – when that happened, the claim of the Party to have improved the conditions of human life had got to be accepted, because there did not exist, and never again could exist, any standard against which it could be tested._

            Calming. Shion’s stomach was still coiled tight, but the sweat was cooling on his skin.

            _And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn’t really mean it. But that isn’t true._

Calming. Shion loosened his jaw, not realizing it’d been clenched tight, molars hard against each other.

            _You want it to happen to the other person. You don’t give a damn what they suffer. All you care about is yourself._

            Calming. Calming. Calming.

            He didn’t know how long Nezumi read, but when he stopped Shion found it hard to remember why Nezumi had started at all, reading in the middle of the night, reading in the dark, reading in a heap of limbs with Shion feet away from him, perched at the very edge of the bed.

            Shion’s stomach reminded him. It did not feel right. Shion ignored it.

            “Shion.”

            “Hm?” Shion didn’t open his eyes. Or his lips. If he did, something might come out, more than words, more than breath.

            _He’s pale. Squeezing his stomach too hard. Nauseous?_

            “Do you feel all right?”

            Shion nodded. He felt fine. The words calmed him, Nezumi’s voice in his head calmed him, he was fine now.

            _He’s not all right._

            “Do you want to go to the bathroom? Just in case you throw up?”

            Shion couldn’t argue that he wasn’t going to throw up because that would involve opening his lips.

            He shook his head instead. Kept his eyes closed. Read Nezumi’s thoughts.

            _Okay, hold on._

            He felt from the mattress when Nezumi left the bed. Heard from a cupboard door opening when Nezumi was in the kitchen. Knew from the shifting of items that Nezumi was looking for something.

            When Nezumi was back, he sat on the edge of the bed, but not close. Shion could tell from where the mattress only gently depressed to his side.

            “Do you want to hold this?”

            Shion’s eyes were still closed. He opened them, saw a pot beside his thigh, between him and Nezumi.

            The question did not make sense. The pot on the bed did not make sense. It made so little sense Shion forgot he wasn’t supposed to be opening his lips.

            “Why would I want to – Oh – ”

            He hunched over just in time, vomited into the pot, his stomach writhing, and the terrible words were back in his head.

            _Hands, scared, touching, men, fingers, shirt, thigh_ –

            “It’s okay, don’t worry, just get it out, it’s okay,” Nezumi was saying, but his voice was tight. “Can you try to block out my thoughts? It’s hard for me stop them right now, but I don’t want you to think about these things. I know you can’t help it, but – Can’t you try, Shion?”

            Shion gasped, gripping the sides of the pot, his hard exhales following the contents of his stomach.

            _Scared, snow, cold, men, running, fingers, scared, shoulder, skin –_

            Shion had tried to block out thoughts for five years. “I can’t – ” he managed, and he retched again, half-vomit, half nothing at all.

            _Pain, scared, scared, shout, cloth, scared_ –

            His throat hurt along with his stomach now.

            “Okay. Shit. Okay,” Nezumi said.

            _Fingers – Stop, stop, stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it – men – it’s just the past – hands – It’s over, a nightmare, a nightmare – touching – the past, the past, the past, the past…_

            The repetition didn’t stop. The words were loud in Shion’s thoughts, calming.

            _…the past, the past, the past, the past, the past, the past…_

            He stopped dry heaving and stared at the small puddle of vomit in the pot, not wanting to move.

            _…the past, the past, the past, the past, the past, the past…_

            They sat like this for a long time.

            And then Shion sat up. Wiped his lips. Stood up, hand over his stomach, wary, but it was at rest.

            He looked at Nezumi, who was staring at the wall, not seeming to have noticed Shion had stood up.

            _…the past, the past, the past, the past, the past, the past…_

            Shion took the pot to the kitchen. Washed it in the sink with warm water. Left it to dry and went to the bathroom and peed and rinsed out his mouth and squirted toothpaste on his finger and rubbed it over his teeth and rinsed out his mouth again. Repeated the process, more toothpaste, more rinsing. Again. Once more. In his head –

            _…the past, the past, the past, the past, the past, the past…_

            The repetition stopped while Shion looked at himself in the mirror – his eyes were bloodshot, his nose was pink, his cheeks were pale, his hairline was damp, and then his mind was silent.

            He left the bathroom on the last observation. Nezumi was not on the bed. Shion kept staring at it, thinking Nezumi would appear somehow, but then there was Nezumi’s voice, calling him lightly.

            “Shion?”

            Nezumi was standing by the stove.

            Shion walked over to him. The microwave said it was four o’ clock. The number looked odd, so Shion decided not to believe it.

            “Drink this.” Nezumi placed a mug of tea on the counter instead of handing it to him.

            Shion took the mug of tea. He drank it, the warmth incredible, like a new feeling altogether, one he hadn’t felt before in his entire life.

            He downed the tea. Nezumi did not seem surprised, poured him another, and Shion held this one in his hands, wanting to keep it with him for a little longer before it was gone.

            “Come,” Nezumi said, so Shion did. He liked the gentle instructions. He liked not having to think at all about what to do.

            Nezumi led him back to the bed. Shion sat against the headboard on Nezumi’s side, and Nezumi covered him, tucked the blanket around him but did not touch him, did not look at him for very long, only quick glances.

            His thoughts were silent. Shion figured he was able to suppress them again, the way he could, that strange way he could that Shion hadn’t understood but now he thought he did.

            If he were Nezumi, he would have taught himself to suppress his thoughts as well.

            Nezumi walked around the bed and sat beside Shion, leaving careful space between them. He had picked up a book without looking at it, and Shion watched his fingers open it, touch the page, though he wasn’t looking at the words.

            Shion could tell, because there were no words in his head.

            “Nezumi.”

            “Hm.”

            “Why were you apologizing?”

            Nezumi looked at him. He looked shy, concerned, small. Not like Nezumi, but someone much younger, someone in a dream he’d had. Nezumi tucked his hair behind his ears with long fingers.

            “What?”

            “When we woke up. You kept – You kept saying sorry. But you hadn’t done anything.”

            Nezumi’s expression hardened. “No one should ever have to experience that night,” he finally said, but in his thoughts he said, much more quietly –

            _I forced you to live through what I had to. I’m so sorry._

            “You can’t control what you dream about.”

            Nezumi glanced back at the book.

            _I hate that I made you feel that way. Violated. Terrified. Touched._

            Shion took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Watched the rise and fall of Nezumi’s chest to avoid his expression. “You didn’t make me. It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t have any control over it, just like I don’t have control over mind reading. It just happened. It’s not your fault.”

            The nightmare had stopped, but Nezumi’s life hadn’t. It occurred to Shion for the first time since waking that there was more to the nightmare, there was the _after that_ , there was the _what happened next_.

            It was not a nightmare. It was a memory. And while tonight they had woken from it, years ago in the past Nezumi had not.

            He looked away from Nezumi’s chest. Stared at the mug in his hands. Half full. Half empty. Nearly done.

            He didn’t want to ask Nezumi because then Nezumi would think about it. He didn’t want to ask Nezumi because then he would think about it.

            Shion didn’t want to ask, but how could he not know?

            He asked something else, to distract himself. “How are you so…calm?”

            Nezumi’s fingers shaking. Nezumi’s face wet. Nezumi’s voice jerky – but even so, he had been the one to take care of Shion. It was his memory, it was his nightmare, it was his body, it was his skin. He should have been the one vomiting into the pot on the mattress, he should have been the one cocooned in a blanket now with a mug of tea held tight.

            “I got over it.” Nezumi’s words sounded disconnected. Stiff, jolty.

            “Nezumi,” Shion breathed. He pulled his legs to his chest. He felt Nezumi looking at him, heard it in his thoughts.

            _He looks pale again. Oh, he thinks –_

            “That was it,” Nezumi said, and Shion looked at him to see if the words made sense with Nezumi’s expression behind them.

            Sad, but earnest. A little helpless, maybe.

            Concerned, more than anything, when it was Nezumi’s nightmare. It was Nezumi’s memory. It was Nezumi’s skin.

            Nezumi shook his head. “What I dreamt – What we dreamt – that’s all of it. Nothing – Nothing else happened.”

            _They didn’t – I wasn’t –_

            Nezumi’s fingers were in his bangs. Knuckles white. Shion watched his grip loosen, his fingers fall again.

            “But – ” Shion protested, because he had been there too.

            Their grips sharp. Their fingers touching. Their intentions clear.

            “Someone heard my shout, when I pulled out the gag for that second. Someone found me. Nothing happened, Shion, I promise you. Nothing happened.”

            _I promise._

            Shion’s relief was dizzying. “Oh. Oh, Nezumi, I was certain – ”

            “No. I was fine.” A pause. “I am fine.”

            Shion still felt dizzy. Leaned back against the headboard and tilted his head up to the ceiling and watched it as the waves of his relief spilled over him, head to toe, toe to head, back again.

            Nezumi didn’t say anything until Shion felt less shaken. “Do you want me to read?”

            “Do you want to?”

            “I’m a little tired. Do you think we could just go back to sleep?”

            Shion looked at Nezumi. “Aren’t you scared you’ll have that nightmare again?”

            Shion was the one who was scared.

            “I won’t. I never have nightmares twice in a night,” Nezumi said, and this was true.

            _Don’t worry, don’t be scared. It’s over, I promise._

             “You’ve also never had this nightmare,” Shion said, even though he trusted Nezumi’s promise.

            Nezumi’s hair fell free from behind his ear.

            _The debt record reminded me._

            “Debt record?” Shion remembered the careful handwriting on the page torn from a book. It felt like months after the discovery of it, but it was only hours. “What does this have to do with – ”

            _I don’t want to talk about it._

            “Can we go to sleep, Shion?” Nezumi asked. He sounded tired.

            Shion was tired too. He didn’t argue.

            He thought about the debt record, the numbers on it, the years listed, as he laid back down beside Nezumi, as he tried to fall asleep again.

            Nezumi thought of nothing, so it was only Shion’s thoughts in his own head. Almost as if Nezumi was not beside him at all. Almost as if Nezumi had disappeared.

*

The weekend of Christmas was Shion’s weekend to stay home.

            He had been going to Nezumi’s every other weekend, had never postponed his visit a week or visited two weeks in a row. There was a pattern, a rule, and Shion followed it.

            In the summer, he’d visited Safu with each visit to the city, but since she was back on her own campus, Shion could no longer get lunch with her twice a month.

            His trips had never been for Safu, however, and so they did not stop.

            On Christmas, Shion stood beside Safu drying the dishes, wondering if he should call Nezumi.

            “Why not?” Safu asked. “It won’t be like last year.”

            Shion had, indeed, been thinking of a year before, sitting on the floor of Safu’s bedroom against her closed door, Nezumi’s resentment filling his head.

            He opened the cupboard with plates, placed the one he’d dried on top of the stack.

            Nezumi only owned two plates. They were not of a matching set.

            “I think he’s spending Christmas alone,” Shion said, reaching out to run his finger down the stack of plates, his fingertip bumping along the smooth edge of each before it fell to the one below it.

            This was a lie. Shion did not think Nezumi was spending Christmas alone. He was certain of it.

            “I know you mentioned he doesn’t have any family, but what about friends?”

            “I don’t think he has friends.” Another lie. Shion didn’t think this either. He was certain of this as well.

            “Doesn’t that indicate something about him to you?” Safu asked, and Shion could tell she was looking at him.

            Shion didn’t look back. He had an excuse not to.

            “No.” Shion didn’t ask what Safu thought Nezumi’s lack of friends should have been indicating. If he wanted to know what she thought, he would have looked at her.

            “How long are you going to do this, Shion?”

            “Do what?”

            “Are you being purposely obtuse, or am I supposed to believe you really don’t know what I am referring to?”

            Shion accidentally looked at Safu’s hand as he took his mother’s washed pie tin from her to dry.

            _…falling for the wrong guy –_

            “He’s not the wrong guy. And I’m not falling for him.”

            “I’ll pretend you’re being honest only because I’m tired of having this same argument about your feelings for Nezumi. If you’re not falling for him, then why are you still seeing him? Maybe you should stop. It’s been half a year since you started this up again, I really don’t understand why you’d still be doing this.”

            “Because I like seeing him. Why does it bother you?” The dishtowel Shion was using was damp by now. It moved moisture around the pie tin rather than drying it.

            “He’s a distraction. You still haven’t done anything towards your future, are you even thinking about it? I know you’re not content to work at your mother’s bakery forever, you’ve told me so yourself. You’re avoiding your own life, visiting Nezumi every other weekend.”

            “I am thinking about my future.” Another lie.

            He put down the pie tin even though it still was not dry.

            “What have you been thinking?” Safu challenged.

            “I’m going to enroll in an online university.” Shion pulled this from earlier discussions he’d had with Safu. It seemed, to him, believable. Even plausible. He might do it.

            “What are you going to study?”

            “Biology on the pre-med track.” It was what he’d been studying before, in the city. Again, plausible.

            “What are you going to do after you get your degree?”

            “Work on medical research. I haven’t decided my concentration, I’ll probably choose something once I’ve taken more classes and have a better background.” From plausible to probable. Shion was convincing himself. Maybe he had been thinking about. Maybe he’d just forgotten, his visits to Nezumi overshadowing everything else.

            “That’s what you want to do? That’s what you’ll be happy doing? Even though you won’t be able to help everyone in the entire world whose thoughts you’ve heard and are going to hear?”

            “There’s nothing I could do that would help everyone in the entire world.”

            “And you’re all right with that?”

            Shion took the pot Safu held out and managed not to look at her, not even her hand. “Yes.” Another lie. He inspected the dishtowel for a dry section.

            “And what about Nezumi?”

            “What about Nezumi?”

            “What does he say about this?”

            “He doesn’t say anything.” Shion didn’t find a dry spot. Rubbed the pot with the damp dish towel, dampening the towel more without drying the pot.

            “Right. Because you don’t talk about anything of substance.” Safu’s opinion on this was clear.

            “Right,” Shion confirmed. It felt good not to lie.

            Safu exhaled loudly. She dropped something in the sink that clanged. Shion didn’t look in case he accidentally looked at Safu.

            He concentrated on the pot, still wet, and the dish towel, making it wetter.

            “Shion, honestly, I am happy that you’re finally giving yourself a break, letting yourself do something purely for the fun of it rather than any educational or charitable value. But this isn’t going to be enough. You’re going to want more, even if you claim not to right now. A shallow relationship like that which you have with Nezumi can only be satisfying for so long. It isn’t sustainable.”

            “It doesn’t need to be sustainable, it’s temporary.”

            “How temporary?”

            “I don’t know, Safu, can we end the interrogation? And have you got another dish towel? This one is useless. Why are there so many dishes this year?”

            Safu threw a handful of spoons and forks and knives into the pot Shion had not yet finished drying. There was still soap on the silverware.

            “What if the next time you drive into the city he tells you he wants to stop?”

            “Why would he want to stop?” Shion asked, to avoid thinking about the scenario.

            He picked up a fork and rubbed the dishtowel over it, watching the towel pick up the suds from the tongs.

            “I don’t know, he met someone. How would you feel?”

            “Fine. He’s allowed to meet someone.” Another lie. Shion didn’t know what the truth was because he didn’t allow himself to think about it.

            It wasn’t going to happen. Certainly not by next week when Shion visited. Of course they had more time than that.

            “What if you met someone? Won’t you feel bad, having to stop seeing Nezumi when apparently you’re the only relationship he has, seeing as he’s friendless and doesn’t have a family?”

            Shion felt a flash of heat on behalf of Nezumi on Safu’s words, though he wasn’t sure why. He knew Safu wasn’t being malicious. She was just stating a fact, because that was what Safu did.

            She was honest. She didn’t lie.

            “So what do you propose, Safu?” Shion sighed, throwing the silverware into their drawer, suds still lingering.

            He stared into the pot, empty again but for drops of water along the edge of the bottom.

            “End it now before he gets too used to you, before he gets dependent on your company. It’ll be easier for him.”

            “You don’t know him.”

            “I know you, and in time you are going to want more than whatever you’re doing with him. If he will not give it to you, I know you will remain engaged in your relations with him even so because you know he is dependent upon you, seeing as he is completely alone otherwise, and it’s in your nature to act in the benefit of others even when it’s a detriment to your own well-being.”

            This time, the heat through Shion’s chest was not a flash. It rose up his neck to his cheeks.

            “You can’t just say that!” He looked at his friend by mistake.

            _He loves Nezumi._

            “No, I don’t!” Shion objected, forgetting that he didn’t usually respond to Safu’s thoughts. “But I still won’t allow you to be cruel to him.”

            _Cruel?_

“I’m not being cruel,” Safu said, sounding surprised.

            “You’re judging him,” Shion accused. His ears felt hot. His palms.

            _Judging?_

            “I’m not judging him,” Safu said, her surprise doubled.

            She wasn’t. She wasn’t a judgmental person. She was honest.

            Shion didn’t care for her honesty. Didn’t want Nezumi’s loneliness pointed out to him. Worse, his own role in the future of Nezumi’s loneliness, an inevitable role because they were not permanent, they were not real.

Shion threw the wet dishtowel into the wetter pot.

            “I’m tired of your disapproval, Safu,” he said, to give himself an excuse to walk away from her.

            He left out the back door because it was the closest exit. He couldn’t go home. He didn’t want his mother to know something was wrong. Nothing was wrong, anyway. He didn’t want to leave Safu’s yet, it was early still and they hadn’t had cocoa.

            He wanted the conversation to end. To stop talking about Nezumi, how Nezumi was temporary, when Shion knew that, but everything was temporary that wasn’t permanent, and how many things in life were permanent?

            Hardly anything.

            Outside was cold but not windy, and Shion’s skin still felt hot. His agitation kept him warm. He took his phone from his pocket so that his escape from the house would not be a tantrum. He had only gone outside to make a phone call. A normal behavior.

            To validate the behavior, he had to make a call. He looked at Nezumi’s name in his contact list, then pressed on it, the phone button, held his phone to his ear. It rang. Kept ringing.

            ­– _It’s Nezumi. Get to the –_

            “Yeah, what, what?”

            _Shit, dammit._

            Nezumi’s voice cut off his voicemail. His thoughts cut off his voice.

            Calming.

            “Are you okay?” Shion asked. The sweep of Nezumi’s voice through his mind was thorough and incredible. He felt his pulse settling and hadn’t realized it’d been racing beforehand.

            “I dropped all this stuff,” Nezumi grumbled.

            Shion smiled. Could see Nezumi’s disgruntlement, a hand in his hair, his eyes narrowed.

            “What stuff?”

            “These seasonings, and the tops were open, there’s paprika on my sock, what is it that you want? This isn’t a great time,” Nezumi demanded.

            “There’s paprika on your – Since when did you use paprika? What are you doing?”

            “Cooking, Shion, what the hell else does a person do with paprika? Paprika doesn’t even taste good, it tastes like crap, I’ll just throw it out, screw this recipe. You know it’s not good if it’s got this crap in it.”

            “Recipe? You’re cooking with a recipe? What recipe? What are you cooking?”

            “Weren’t you listening? I just said I’m throwing out the recipe, it’s useless. Was in some cooking magazine at the library, you’d think it’d be somewhat decent.”

            Shion laughed, cupped his palm over it to catch the sound. He walked around Safu’s backyard because he was full of energy, could have ran, could have jumped. “Just because a recipe calls for paprika doesn’t make it useless. What’s the recipe?”

            “Mind your own business.”   

            “Why are you cooking from a recipe?”

            “What did I tell you to do with your own business?” Nezumi countered, but Shion could read his thoughts, scattered from the paprika incident.

            _Practicing. All over the damn floor, stupid paprika –_

            “Practicing? You’re practicing cooking?” Shion asked.

            “I’m going to hang up on you, I need to change my sock and sweep.”

            “You can’t sweep up paprika, you’ll just spread it around, wet a napkin and use that. And you can change your sock and hold a conversation, I’ve seen you do it, it’s very impressive.” Shion reached up, touched the branches of a cherry tree, budless and bare.

            _Wet a napkin. Right. Makes sense._

            “Why are you practicing cooking?” Shion asked again, hoping to catch Nezumi’s thoughts while he wasn’t on guard.

            _To cook for you._

            “Dammit,” Nezumi cursed, and Shion bit down hard on his lip, as if someone in Safu’s backyard could see his smile and point it out to him and accuse him of something ridiculous, like being in love.

            “You’re going to cook for me?”

            “Not anymore, since you couldn’t mind your business,” Nezumi muttered.

            Shion could hear the faucet on Nezumi’s end of the line.

            “I like paprika, so you should use it if you’re cooking for me.”

            “I’m not cooking for you, and I’m definitely not using paprika.”

            “Do you even know what foods I like? Shouldn’t I tell you before you cook for me? Is this going to be spicy?”

            “Are you deaf? I’m not cooking for you,” Nezumi snapped.

            _Shit, ow, dammit, damn._

            “What happened?”

            “I hit my elbow on a cabinet while I was using your stupid wet napkin technique.”

            “It’s not a technique, it’s common sense. And I’m sure your elbow is fine, don’t be so dramatic,” Shion said.

            He was still smiling. He wondered if his words were distorted because of it. If Nezumi could tell.

            “Did you want something? Is there a reason you’re calling, or is it just to annoy the shit out of me?”

            “I called to wish you Merry Christmas,” Shion said happily, and the words took him abruptly a year back.

            He was back at the barren cherry tree. Had walked the perimeter of the yard, returned to it. Ran his fingers along its bark.

            _Right, Christmas, today._

            “Merry Christmas. Shouldn’t you go and open a toy car with your mom or something?”

            “A toy car?”

            “A stuffed animal, a puppy, sticks of gum. I don’t know what you like,” Nezumi said, sounding distracted.

            _Preheat oven to 400 degrees._

            “What are you cooking?”

            “Nothing you’ll ever eat,” Nezumi responded smoothly, and there was no slip in his thoughts.

            Shion walked around the tree, his hand cupped over its truck still, a pinpoint at which he circled, a grounding spot for him to orbit.

            “I like spicy foods but not too spicy,” Shion said.

            “Don’t care,” Nezumi said.

            _Spicy but not too spicy? What is not too spicy?_

            Shion would have smiled but he was already smiling. How long had he been smiling? Had he never stopped?

            _Rinse the shrimp and pat them dry. Toss them with olive oil. Sprinkle paprika – goddamn paprika, fuck that – and a generous quantity of salt and pepper. Generous quantity? What is that?_

            “I like shrimp,” Shion said.

            “Who cares? Did I say I was making shrimp? Did I say you could have any?” Nezumi countered.

            _Good, he likes shrimp, okay, one thing right. Generous quantity…generous…quantity…_

            Shion stopped walking around the cherry blossom tree. Stepped closer to it, hugged the trunk to his side, wound his arm as far around it as he could.

            “So I’ll come over next week.”

            “Why wouldn’t you?” Nezumi asked. Still distracted. In his thoughts, Shion listened to him read the preparation for the broth, his internal confusion as to what the hell a Dutch oven was, whether any sort of pan could qualify as a deep sauté pan or if that was something else altogether, what the exact size difference was between diced and minced, if there was some sort of ratio he had to follow, a proportion guide.

            “It’s the New Years. I didn’t know if you had, I don’t know, some sort of party at a castmate’s house maybe, or plans of some sort,” Shion said, trailing off.

            “Plans? What? No.”

            _One small white onion, diced…Okay – Ow – Shit –_

            “Listen, I can’t cut an onion and hold a phone at the same time, I gotta go,” Nezumi said, still sounding distracted. “I tried to do that thing where people hold it between their cheek and shoulder, how do people do that? It’s impossible, I have to – Oh, shit, the oven is beeping, I didn’t even do anything yet!”

            “It’s preheated. Have you never used an oven before?” Shion cut himself off before he could ask if Nezumi had never seen his parents cooking, had never helped around the kitchen.

            Of course he hadn’t. No wonder he didn’t cook. No wonder he didn’t know how.

            The explanation was so obvious Shion felt a little winded from it.

            “Preheated already? That’s quick. Okay, right – What were you saying? You’re coming next weekend?”

            Shion smiled again. Was already smiling. Had lost track, didn’t care to keep track.

            Nezumi had never asked before. Never confirmed. It was Shion, who used to text to make sure, though he’d stopped doing that before the summer ended, preferring to just drop by without warning the way Nezumi had given him permission to do.

            “Of course,” Shion replied.

            _Good._

            “Right. I’m hanging up.”

            “Okay. Good luck with the cooking.”

            “I’m not cooking.”

            Shion was laughing when Nezumi hung up. He pressed his phone to his lips. Missed the voice in his head already. Wished he was in Nezumi’s apartment, sitting on the counter beside the stove while Nezumi scrambled around, flustered and out of his element – a rare form, and Shion wanted to see it, to witness Nezumi’s uncertainty and discomposure in this harmless task.

            He imagined Nezumi was only wearing one sock, forgetting to replace the paprika-stained one he’d shed.

            He imagined Nezumi’s hair half out of its bun, a sprinkle of paprika woven in a clump of dark locks from the hand that had no doubt woven through it halfway through cleaning his mess.

            He imagined bits of minced garlic stuck to long fingers, because minced garlic always stuck, would never transfer completely from the side of the knife to the pot.

            He imagined Nezumi’s anger at his burning eyes as he diced the small white onion, alarm at the sudden discomfort, the unwelcome trigger of his tear ducts.

            Shion didn’t want to imagine any of it. He wanted to see it. Hear it. Be there for every single one of Nezumi’s thoughts, every curse and confusion, every hesitation and discovery.

            He wanted to hear in his head those words a thousand times – _To cook for you –_ a thousand more than that.

            He would never let Nezumi read again, hide his library card, distract him from any other thought he might have. No other words needed to be in Nezumi’s head but those.

            _To cook for you. To cook for you. To cook for you._

            Were there better words? Words people wanted to hear more than those? Confessions of love, commitment, vows of lives until death, promises of eternal passion – did these compare to the words Nezumi had thought, the words still in Shion’s head – _To cook for you_ – ? Shion couldn’t believe it.

            He returned to the house, leaving the cherry blossom tree that naked of its bloom, leaving the backyard that was dark without the sunlight and the moon half blanketed in fog.

            He found Safu still in the kitchen, where the back door entered, still somehow doing the dishes. Now she was drying. It was as different dish towel. Not damp. Able to do its job.

            In her head were the words of a Christmas song Shion hadn’t heard in years. Shion could see his friend’s lips moving softly. Her attention solely on the dish towel and the stirring spoon it wrapped around.

            “I stormed out like a child. I’m sorry,” Shion apologized. He thought he might still be smiling and touched his lips to check.

            Safu looked up, and Shion read her surprise more than he saw it over her features.

            _Oh! Shion. Apologize._

            “I didn’t mean to upset you with what I said about Nezumi. I wasn’t intending to be cruel. I didn’t realize I had been. I didn’t mean to insult him by remarking on his loneliness. I meant it as a statement of fact, but I wasn’t thinking. I am sorry, Shion.”

            Shion laughed. He couldn’t help it. There was laughter left, stored inside him. “Don’t apologize, Safu, I was being childish and overreacting, of course I know you were just looking out for me, I can read minds, you know.”

            _Joking about mind reading? Laughing? Looks so happy. …Nezumi?_

            “Did you call Nezumi?” Safu asked. She was not nonchalant, nor demanding.

            Curious. She sounded only curious.

            Shion didn’t see a reason to lie. He walked to his friend, though he could have run, he could have jumped. “He’s cooking. For me! Well, he’s only practicing now, but he’s practicing for when he cooks for me. He sounds completely awful at it, I wish I was there to witness what a mess he’ll make in that tiny kitchen. I hope he’s careful with the oven, I should have told him to be careful with the oven and reminded him to use oven mitts, maybe I’ll just text him.”

            Shion pulled out his phone. Texted Nezumi quickly.

            ­ _– Careful with the oven, use oven mitts or folded dishtowels. –_

Nezumi didn’t reply immediately, and Shion glanced up from his phone screen to his friend.

            _…wants to be with him. Nezumi. So happy. Knew it, he is in love. Of course._

Shion couldn’t deny Safu’s accusation because his phone went off.

            _– Did I ask for your advice or did I ask you to mind your own business? –_

            “You’re smiling at your phone,” Safu said.

            Shion rubbed his thumb over the words on his screen. Wished they were in his head.

            “What?” he asked, thinking Safu had said something, looking up at her.

            _Smiling. Happy. Really happy. Because of Nezumi. Is this good?_

            Shion didn’t reply to Safu’s thoughts because she was not addressing him, she was not thinking just for him, the way Nezumi did.

            But if he did answer, he would have said yes.

            Yes, it was good to be happy. Why wouldn’t it be?

*

It was New Year’s Eve, so Shion brought champagne, but forgot champagne glasses.

            Nezumi lifted his mug to his face, peeked down into it.

            _Bubbles. Crisp._

            “You’ve never had champagne?” Shion asked.

            Nezumi peered up at him without moving his mug. He didn’t say anything, just looked at Shion, and Shion felt his face grow warm.

            He watched Nezumi press the edge of his mug to his lips.

            “Wait! You can’t just drink it, we need to clink our glasses. Mugs. Make a toast. That’s what you have to do with champagne.” Shion sat on the counter beside the stove, swinging his heels against the cabinet below him.

            Nezumi was cooking parmesan risotto with roasted shrimp. Shion found the recipe in the cooking magazine while Nezumi was still at the theater. It was one of twelve recipes within the same article. The article was titled, “Top 12 Recipes for a Romantic Night In.”

            It was nearly midnight, but Nezumi had only just gotten home from a late night show ten minutes before.

            The smell of the cooking food filled the entire kitchen. Shion had never been hungrier and had never been more content to wait.

            Nezumi stood in front of the stove. He took his mug from his lips without drinking. He lifted it, halfway to Shion, and Shion lifted his own mug the other half.

            _You make the toast._

            “Well, it’s New Year’s Eve, so I guess I’ll just be cliché. To the New Year.” Shion clinked his mug to Nezumi’s, and they both sipped at the same time.

            _Oh!_

            Shion smiled into his mug at Nezumi’s surprise. He didn’t need to read Nezumi’s thoughts to know what he was feeling.

            The champagne sparkled on Shion’s own lips, fizzled over his own tongue, popped against the roof of his own mouth, warmed his own throat when he swallowed, crackled in his own stomach when it settled.

            Nezumi looked again into his mug after his first sip.

            _Interesting. Cold, but feels warm._

            “Do you like it?” Shion asked, even though he didn’t need to.

            “Sure, it’s fine.” Nezumi placed down his mug very carefully beside the stove and stuck a fork in the rice.

            Shion watched Nezumi bring the fork to his lips. Watched Nezumi’s lips open, close around the fork. Wanted to kiss him.

            Shion turned away from Nezumi. The microwave said there were eight minutes until midnight.

            _Not ready yet. Damn._

            “You hungry?” Nezumi asked.

            “I don’t mind waiting.”

            “I know it’s late.”

            “I don’t mind.”

            “It should be done soon.”

            Shion laughed, and Nezumi looked at him in a surprised way.

            _Why is he laughing?_

            “I don’t mind,” Shion said again, laughing through the words or speaking through the laugh, he wasn’t sure which.

            _Still laughing. Soft lips._

            Shion watched Nezumi’s grey eyes rest on his lips, watched them slide a second later to the microwave.

            _Seven minutes. Too long._

            Shion was still laughing, more in breaths than anything. Was getting ahold of himself when Nezumi stepped closer to him.

            Was hardly laughing now, giggling more than laughing, really, when Nezumi’s hand cupped his jawline, angled his face down.

            Shion sat on the counter, and Nezumi stood before him. For the first time, Shion looked down on Nezumi. Grey eyes peering up from long eyelashes, curled. Lips parting a second before they pressed to Shion’s, and Shion was still laughing, or maybe just giggling, or maybe just breathing, what did it matter?

            _Lips like champagne._

            Shion didn’t understand the words that filled his head as Nezumi’s exhale filled his mouth.

            His lips were not bubbly. They did not fizz, they did not crackle, they were not like fireworks against skin, but there was Nezumi’s thought, undeniable, and Shion didn’t try to argue with it.

            He kissed Nezumi back, even though it was not the new year yet, even though they didn’t have the excuse of midnight.

            They didn’t need an excuse.

*

The first thing Shion saw in the morning of the new year were Nezumi’s eyelashes.

            Long, curled.

            Two strands from his bangs caught in the eyelashes of his right eye. Shion freed the strands, movements slow, hand cold the moment he unearthed it from the blanket cocooning them.

            His hand already out from the warmth they’d collected between them, Shion looked for more places to touch. The bridge of Nezumi’s nose, tracing his finger down it. The dip in the middle of his upper lip, Shion branded with his fingerprint. The scatter of dark hair, Shion examined it, considering the odd overlap, the disarray, where to put his fingers within it, where to bury them, where to stain them with Nezumi’s ink.

            Nezumi’s eyes opened when Shion was still considering. He’d left his finger on Nezumi’s upper lip, having forgotten about it.

            _What’re you doing?_

            “Touching you.” Shion took his finger from Nezumi upper lip.

            _Oh._

            Nezumi closed his eyes again.

            _Don’t stop._

            Shion smiled. Started at Nezumi’s hairline, the very center. Slipped his fingers through the strands, echoing the gesture that belonged to Nezumi – Nezumi’s long fingers tightening around his own bangs.

            He tucked Nezumi’s hair behind Nezumi’s ear – another familiar gesture.

            He touched Nezumi’s lips – another familiar gesture, though it was Shion’s own lips that Nezumi usually touched.

            He leaned forward, listening to the shuffle of his own body against the mattress, and kissed the lips he touched – another familiar gesture, though it was Shion’s lips that Nezumi kissed.

            _Warm._

            Nezumi’s lips opened. His breath was hot. He tasted of mornings and sleep. He made a muffled, muted sound that vibrated the heat in Shion’s mouth.

            _Kiss me every morning._

            Nezumi’s thought in Shion’s head was sleepy, heavy, just the way his voice sounded in the mornings. Tired, not fully alert. Slow, soft. Slurred, dreamy, like he was asleep still, like he didn’t know what he was saying.

            Accidental, thoughts that weren’t meant for Shion to hear, but he heard them.

            He always heard them.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quoted books in order of appearance:
> 
> The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald  
> 1984 by George Orwell


	4. Chapter 4

It was the second weekend of January, and Shion was supposed to drive into the city.

            He stood at the front of the bakery, right in front of the window, and watched the swirl of the snowstorm, a swash of white over all of the town that Shion could see.

            The snowplows hadn’t gotten out yet and wouldn’t for hours more. It was a small town. Extreme weather was met with sheltering indoors, hot mugs of cocoa and fireplaces with loved ones.

            People didn’t try to leave in snow storms. Four inches and climbing of snow on the roads was not bothersome, but scenic, beautiful, an excuse to stay indoors and peer out the window in awe.

            “I’m sorry, honey, I really don’t want you driving to the city in this weather, it’s only going to get worse. Your friend will understand, won’t he?”

            Shion didn’t look at his mother, but could feel her arm graze his as she came to stand beside him.

            “Of course he will,” Shion said. He wasn’t going to worry his mother, driving for four hours in a storm that was only going to get worse.

            When he looked at his mother, the glare of the sun reflected off the snow and lit her profile.

            _So beautiful._

            She knew about Nezumi only in the sense that she knew his name, and she knew Shion visited him every other weekend.

            She was under the impression that Nezumi was a friend from when Shion had attended college in the city, and Shion did not correct her impression, nor did he address it directly. That felt less like lying.

            Shion did not want to hide the truth from his mother. He only did not know how to word the truth. – _I go to Tokyo to have sex with a man whose company I also enjoy._ – Somehow the truth sounded inaccurate as well, though Shion couldn’t name the exact inaccuracy in the statement.

            “What are you thinking about, honey?”

            Shion had turned back to the window, and he watched the snow fall as he contemplated his mother’s question.

            He hadn’t decided yet on an answer when his mom spoke again.

            “Sometimes I think there are so many things in your head that I could never understand.”

            Shion looked at his mother, her kind eyes, her comforting smile, her thoughts –

            _Secrets. Growing up. Just a boy – A man now, isn’t he? As long as he’s happy, give him space. As long as he’s safe, allow him privacy._

            “No one understands me the way you do,” Shion said, and this was not a lie.

            His mother did not know he could read minds, but Shion was not only a mind reader.

            He was his mother’s son, raised by this woman, loved by her more than anyone had ever been loved, and Shion knew this as a simple truth, an easy fact.

            _Love him so much it should be impossible._

            “I love you too, Mom,” Shion said, forgetting his mother did not speak the words aloud, but she did not seem to notice his mistake.

            Her smile spread softly.

            “I should text Nezumi, let him know I can’t come,” Shion said, looking away from her again.

            Snow fell faster than before. Beautiful, but Shion knew of more beautiful things.

            “All right, honey.” His mother’s hand squeezed his, and then she was gone from his side.

            Shion pulled out his phone, had planned on calling Nezumi but texted him instead. Didn’t want to hear Nezumi’s thoughts when he told him. Didn’t want to know.

            _– I can’t make it into the city with the snowstorm today. See you next weekend instead? –_

Shion had typed out the phrase – _Sorry, I wanted to see you –_ but he deleted it, pressing his finger down repeatedly, one letter disappearing at a time. He sent the amended text and watched the snow fall while he waited for Nezumi’s response.

            He didn’t have long to wait.   

            _– Come whenever you want –_

            The words were smooth under Shion’s finger, rubbed across his phone screen.

            Shion wished Nezumi had replied something else. The words he’d sent made Shion uncertain, uncertain as to why he felt uncertain, uncertain all the more.    

            He thought of possible replies, but didn’t type any out, and then it was too late to reply at all.

            Outside, the snow fell faster.

*

The next weekend, a new storm fell through, worse than the previous weekend.

            “Winter came late, but it’s coming hard,” the news castor said that morning as Shion sat on the edge of his mother’s bed. The only television was in her room, a tiny outdated box that was only ever turned onto the news or weather.

            Shion watched the snow from his bedroom window later that day when his phone went off.

            _– Don’t drive in this –_

            Shion almost called Nezumi, just to hear him say those words directly, just to see what thought was behind it, just in case Nezumi let slip some sentiment, just by chance to hear Nezumi’s concern for Shion’s safety, what shape those words would form, what urgency would be behind them.

            He didn’t call.

            _– By next weekend the storms will definitely have passed. –_

            Nezumi did not respond, but Shion checked his phone periodically anyway until it became a reflex to unearth his phone from his pocket and glance at the blank of his screen.

*

The next weekend, the storms had passed. Shion’s car would not start.

            “Oh, it’s the cold, it does this,” the mechanic said, in his head an equally vague list of statements running slowly until Shion could not stand to look at him.

            “Can you fix it?” Shion asked, letting slide that the mechanic had not mentioned a specific problem to fix.

            “Oh, sure.”

            Shion glanced at him, hoping that the mechanic’s thoughts would reveal an estimate on the amount of time it might take to fix the car, but instead he received a debate over what baked good the mechanic was planning on ordering from the bakery.

            The two pastries in contest were pecan tarts and black velvet cupcakes.

            “How long do you think it will take?” Shion wrapped his arms around himself. He wore a shirt, sweatshirt, and coat, but the cold had gotten good at slipping through layers, a sneaky thing.

            “Oh, are you going somewhere?”

            “I was going to drive to Tokyo. I was just about to get on my way when it wouldn’t start.”

            “Oh, well, that’s not going to happen today, is it?” the mechanic asked.

            He was homing in on black velvet until his thoughts made an abrupt turn, reconsidering that sweet drizzle over the pecans.

            “When is it going to happen?” Shion asked, attempting to stay reasonable. The tips of his fingers were numbing despite the depths he burrowed them into his jacket pockets.

            “Oh, not till next weekend, certainly. Got a few cars like this, see. It’s the cold. It does this.”

            Shion watched a woman walking past to give himself a break from the mechanic’s thoughts.

            _Chilly. Can see my breath. Always liked that._

            Shion sighed, watched his own breath escape his lips. He turned back to the mechanic, made himself smile. “Well, thanks. I really appreciate your help.”

            “Oh, sure, that’s my job, son. I’ll get right to it, no problem at all, got a few cars like this.”

            The mechanic was nearly confident on the cupcakes again.

            “Are you going to the bakery?” Shion asked.

            “Oh, of course, already out here, might as well.”

            “I’m the baker there, well, my mother and I, but I made the pastries for today. Can I recommend the pecan tarts? They’re particularly good today, I promise.”

            The mechanic’s grin changed his face, and Shion thought he might have been handsome some years ago, might still be handsome today. Shion’s standard for attractiveness, however, had reached a high level to meet.

            “Oh, is that so? Well, excellent, excellent, let’s go on in then. Cold outside today, isn’t it?”

            Shion agreed, led the mechanic inside, where the warmth was a tangible thing, and Shion felt hot in his layers.

            He thanked the mechanic again, who promised to get working on his car the moment he fixed up the others before it – he had a few cars like that, it was the cold, it did that – then went to the back kitchen, shed his coat and sweatshirt and stood in his t-shirt, looking at his phone screen.

            It took him twenty minutes, to type out a text.

            _– My car won’t start, I’m getting it fixed. The mechanic said it would take a while, at least the week –_

He’d typed out – _I’m really sorry, Nezumi_ – and deleted it in turn, then retyped it, deleted it again, and repeated this process four times before settling on leaving it out and sending the text without any apology at all.

            Nezumi did not reply until that night, when Shion would have been in Nezumi’s apartment, when he would have been reading the books by Nezumi’s bed, waiting for Nezumi to get home from his night show.

            _– Okay –_

            Shion checked the text five times within the next minute, as if the content might have changed, as if the message might have morphed, as if other words might have been there the entire time, and Shion just hadn’t noticed them.

            It didn’t change, and there were no other words.

*

The mechanic was not able to fix Shion’s car for another two weeks. By the third weekend of February, Shion had not gone into the city for over a month, five weeks.

            He had not called Nezumi in the meantime, though he’d hovered his finger over the phone button beside Nezumi’s contact daily.

            The Friday night when the mechanic confirmed Shion’s car good to go, vanilla icing at the corner of his lips and his fingers sticky when Shion shook his hand, Shion texted Nezumi.

            _– Just got the okay on my car. Can I see you tomorrow night? –_

            Nezumi texted back ten minutes later.

            _– Yes –_

            Shion stood in Nezumi’s apartment on Saturday. The microwave said it was half past six. Nezumi wouldn’t be home for hours, but Shion hadn’t been able to postpone his drive into the city. In his head were worries of surprise snow storms, sudden crashes of his motor, false starts of his engine.

            After tracing his finger over the cabinets, the walls, the stove, the counter, the sink, the stove, the fridge, the shower curtain rod, Shion settled onto the bed, familiarized again.

            He picked up a book from the stack beside him, already feeling at ease even before he opened it, even before the ink on pages, the black on white, the calm of the words.

            _We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind, and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification…_

            Since the start of the new year, Shion had begun applying to online universities. In his weekends free from trips to the city, he’d distracted himself with the tedious nature of applications, the questionnaires, the letter of recommendation requests, the short essays, the long essays.

            _It was to have its service of the intellect, certainly; yet it was never to accept any theory or system that would involve the sacrifice of any made of passionate experience. Its aim, indeed, was to be experience itself, and not the fruits of experience, sweet or bitter as they might be._

            His applications complete and submitted, Shion had only to wait. Even completing them, however, did not feel like a step towards his future.

            It felt like a step back, to the past, the months he’d spent applying to colleges in his last year of high school, Safu at his side as they discussed where they wanted to go.

            The city, Shion had said, where there is the real world, where there are the big issues, where a difference could be made.

            _It should have the dignity of a ceremony, as well as its unreality, and should combine the insincere character of a romantic play with the wit and beauty that make such plays delightful to us. Is insincerity such a terrible thing?_

            Shion could tell his mother was relieved when he told her he was applying to online universities. He had read her thoughts, her happiness, and underneath it, her concern.

            Her wonder as to why these colleges were online, why he wouldn’t talk to her about this.

            Shion didn’t answer her. He didn’t reply to thoughts because they were not meant for him. Unless they were Nezumi’s thoughts, thought only for him to read.

            _“As for being poisoned by a book, there is no such thing as that. Art has no influence upon action. It annihilates the desire to act.”_

            Shion heard Nezumi’s thoughts when he was outside the door, a second before he heard the key in the lock.

            _Shion. Shion._

            Shion no longer saw the ink on the page. The black on white. The words he stared at, the letters indecipherable to him. He stared down at the open book anyway, listening to his name in Nezumi’s voice, listening to the key in the lock, listening to the door open.

            _You’re here._

            Shion looked up. His own thoughts interrupted Nezumi’s in his head, taking in the man.

            He looked thinner, his cheeks more hollow. The rest of him, the same. Dark hair in a braid over his shoulder. A flower woven into it, a tiny one, small and white like falling snow or a freckle of moonlight.

            His legs long, walking to Shion. He didn’t close the front door. His fingers cool on Shion’s cheek, Shion’s face tilted up.

            His eyes grey, but they always had been. Not as steady as usual.

            Long eyelashes, curled. Thin lips, parted. His bangs soft when they grazed Shion’s forehead. His breath hot when it hit Shion’s upper lip.

            His kiss soft, when he offered it, and Shion took it eagerly, wanted more but did not receive it.

            Nezumi leaned back from him. Fingers falling from Shion’s skin.

            _I missed you. Missed you. Missed you._

            The thoughts were accidental. Shion knew this more solidly than he’d known anything in his life. More solidly than he knew even what he felt, at that moment, looking at Nezumi leaning over him, then leaning away, then looking away.

            _Front door is open._

            Nezumi retreated to it, looked out the doorway as if there was something there to look at, closed the door only slowly, only reluctantly, with a hesitance Shion could see but not hear, receive no explanation for.

            Shion got off the bed. Wanted to be standing.

            When Nezumi left the front door, closed now, he did not walk back towards Shion but into the kitchen. Shion followed him. Stood beside Nezumi, but not as close as he wanted to, as Nezumi filled the kettle.

            “How was your show?” Shion asked, to say something, to hear more of Nezumi’s thoughts.

            “Good.”

            “Shakespeare’s plays are your favorite to perform, right?”

            Nezumi nodded at the kettle. Looked up, reached into the cupboard, pulled out two mugs.

            Familiar gestures. Natural, expected. Shion had no reason to be uneasy.

            They waited for the kettle’s whistle in silence. Nezumi looked out the window where rain that had not been there ten minutes before was falling lightly. Shion looked at Nezumi, the line of his profile, the familiarity of tracing this line.

            When the kettle whistled, Nezumi flinched, the movement so strange that Shion almost reached out, touched Nezumi to reassure him.

            Shion tucked his hands in his pockets. Nezumi freed teabags from their strings and dropped them in the mugs before pouring hot water over them, the steam drifting up into the kitchen.

            “Thanks,” Shion said, when Nezumi slid a mug towards him. He wanted to touch Nezumi’s hand as he took the mug, but Nezumi moved too quickly, his fingers gone before Shion had even unearthed his hand from his pocket.

            As he let his palms warm around his mug, Shion looked at the flower in Nezumi’s hair. He was playing Ophelia, sweet, innocent, beautiful, beloved, diminished to madness and death. Shion had gone to see the play on its opening in December, hardly recognizing Nezumi onstage as an obedient maiden, a delicate damsel.

             Shion reached out, his fingers touching the tiny petals of the flower, and Nezumi jerked away, spilling tea over his own hand.

            “Shit,” Nezumi hissed, shaking his hand out, then turning on the faucet, hard, water rushing out in a steady stream that was rare in Nezumi’s kitchen.           

            Nezumi preserved water, chastising Shion when he left the sink on as he did the dishes.

            Nezumi’s mind remained completely blank, no reaction in his thoughts despite his clear surprise, despite the obvious pain he must have felt on his skin, the burn.

            “Sorry,” Shion managed. “There’s a flower in your hair – I was just – Nezumi, is something wrong?”

            “Nothing’s wrong, you surprised me,” Nezumi said.

            It occurred to Shion that Nezumi was not speaking to him in his thoughts. Had not done so since his accidental thoughts on first seeing Shion.

            “Are you suppressing your thoughts?” Shion asked.

            “No.” Nezumi turned off the faucet.

            It was a lie. Nezumi was always suppressing his thoughts. But now, Shion suspected, more than usual.

            Suppressing every thought. Letting none slip, not even in reaction to surprise, and Shion was almost in awe at this ability, might have been impressed if he was not concerned, confused.

            “Is your hand okay?”

            “It’s fine.”

            “Nezumi.”

            “What?” Nezumi looked at Shion, his eyes flat, his expression blank.

            Shion nearly stepped away from him. “Are you – Are you mad at me?”

            Nezumi’s eyes narrowed, hardly enough to notice. Shion noticed anyway. “Why would I be mad at you?”

            “I don’t – I don’t know. Nezumi, I wanted to come last weekend, every weekend, you have to know that, I just couldn’t.”

            “I’m well aware.”

            Shion wanted to tell Nezumi to stop this, but Nezumi wasn’t doing anything, nothing Shion could name, could pinpoint, could explain.

            Nezumi’s gaze was cold. Shion returned his hands around his mug. Looked down at the steam still escaping his tea and spoke to the wisps of it, easier to speak to than the apathy of the man beside him.

            “It was hard for me too, not to see you for so long.”

            There was no response in Shion’s head, no thoughts for him to read, and he looked back at Nezumi because that was how Shion read minds – he looked.

            But with Nezumi it was different. Shion could close his eyes and have Nezumi’s voice, still, ringing out to him. Shion could be shelves away and hear Nezumi’s voice, still, as if the man was beside him, long fingers pulling at spines, grazing over pages, touching the ink of words, the black on white.

            Nezumi was looking back out the window. Shion assumed he was not going to reply, and when he did, Shion wished he hadn’t.

            “How long are we going to do this?”

            Shion didn’t need to ask what Nezumi was referring to, but he wanted to, to give Nezumi the chance to drop it, to take his question back, to switch what he’d meant to something else, something harmless.

             “Do what?”

            Nezumi didn’t even hesitate. “Sleep together.”

            Shion took a sip of tea to give Nezumi more time to drop it, but Nezumi didn’t, was looking at Shion when Shion put down his mug.

            Shion stared back at him. “I don’t know.”

            _I want to stop._

            Heat prickled over Shion’s skin, the feeling so instantaneous it alarmed him, he couldn’t help but wonder at the body, how auditory senses were so closely transmitted into emotional responses, how emotional responses so immediately triggered bodily feeling, tactile feedback, heat over skin.

            “I want to stop,” Nezumi said, his voice just as careful as his thoughts, each word a deliberate sound, a slow procession, an even and final tone.

            Shion didn’t know what to say. He thought nothing but those words Nezumi had offered, twice, placed before him like items rather than sounds, so solid they felt, so undeniable they seemed, so unmistakable they were.

            When Nezumi looked at him, his face was softer, his gaze less cold, his jaw less set. But there remained a blankness in his expression, a distance created by the unfamiliar flat of his grey eyes over Shion’s features.

            “I don’t want to hurt you.” Nezumi spoke in the same slow, deliberate way. Almost as if each word was unfamiliar to him. It was the first time he spoke it out loud. He was sounding it out, careful to get it right, not wanting to mess up, to say it the wrong way.

            His lips were still parted as if he had more to say, more words to sound out, to try for the first time, to try to get right, but he didn’t say anything.

            Shion’s eyes were wet. Again, that amazement. How did his tear ducts know? What did words have to do with sadness? What did a voice have to do with eyes? How could sound – that was all words were, they were just sound, meaningless vibrations of particles jostling the miniscule hairs in Shion’s ears – how did that translate to anything?

            To this sinking feeling? To these wet eyes?

            Shion wiped at them, annoyed at them, amazed by them, the process that caused them to water.

            “Why?” he asked, to say something, not for any other reason, not even needing Nezumi to answer him, but just to speak. To get his own voice out, into the kitchen, so that Nezumi’s would stop echoing all alone in the small space, unimpeded, free to persist.

            Nezumi could clearly see that Shion was crying. The grey eyes roamed Shion’s face, drifted between Shion’s eyes, and Shion knew Nezumi could see his sadness written out, spelled out, clearer than ink on a page, clearer than black on white, clearer than any book Nezumi had ever read.

            The books Nezumi read were not easy reads. They were difficult. Dense. Layered, symbolic, demanding. If he could understand those books, he could understand Shion, right in front of him, and what Shion felt.

            Shion kept wiping at his eyes. Sniffed. Wanted a tissue so he didn’t have to sniff, the sound pathetic.

            “It was never going to be forever,” Nezumi said, that same careful way.

            Shion found himself arguing if only to get Nezumi to talk as he usually did, with some degree of feeling, of humanity, of expression. “That’s not a reason.”

            “I don’t want to do this anymo – ”

            Shion cut him off. “That’s not a reason.” If he kept arguing, if he made himself angry at Nezumi’s avoidance, at Nezumi’s lies – they had to be lies – then he couldn’t be upset, then his tear ducts were just malfunctioning, something had gone wrong in that amazing connection between sound and reaction and expression, some fault of his brain, some broken synapse linkage, he’d have to talk to Safu about it later.

            “I don’t enjoy doing this anymore,” Nezumi said, his voice a little harder than before, still careful and deliberate but maybe a little louder, a little more forceful. “It is not making me happy. It is not making me feel good. I don’t want it. I don’t want you to be here every other weekend or whenever you come over. I don’t enjoy seeing you.”

            Shion did not keep arguing. These were reasons. A list of them. A lot of them. An incredible amount of sound, and Shion’s body responded, of course it did, that was what bodies did.

            They responded, instantly, miraculously, amazingly. Shion was crying harder because of this miraculous ability of the body, of the ears working in tangency with the emotion centers of the brain, in synch with the heart, the lungs, the skin, the throat, the tear ducts – those tear ducts, the effort of those tear ducts was really something recommendable, truly something to be wondered at.

            Shion rose his hands to his face. Cried hard into them. Heard himself crying. Felt it, wet eyes, wet cheeks, palms wet because they were over cheeks, wet chin, tears dripping onto his neck, still going, they had persistence.

            His sobs were loud. He hated that, the sound of them. Sticky in his ears. Gasping, breathy. He wished sobs could sound less messy. Less repellent. They didn’t have to be lovely sounds, but if they could be less terrible, Shion would have been so grateful, would have been so appreciative.

            There was nothing to break the sound of his sobs in his head. There were no thoughts there to jostle the sobs out of the way, to drown them out, to at least distract from them, their hitched nature, the slips of voice that escaped the thick of Shion’s throat.

            “Shion.”

            There was a sound. Not a voice in his head but a voice all the same, and Shion would take it, it was enough, distracted from the terrible sounds of his sobs, allowed him to get ahold of himself.

            It took a little bit of time. The body was not so quick to stop as it was to start. Shion forgave it. The body could not be so amazing. So miraculous. Have perfected every ability – not yet, but with time, with evolution, there might be progress.

            When he could see, eyes uncovered from his hands over them, wiped of the tears blurring them, he saw a napkin held out to him. Took it. Blew his nose. Took another. Blew his nose again. Took another, wiped his face. Took another, wiped his face and his chin, took another, blew his nose a third time, was holding many wet napkins by then but took another, catching everything he hadn’t before, felt dry enough, maybe not completely but enough.

            He threw out the napkins in the trash under the sink. Nezumi stepped back from the sink to allow Shion to do this.

            Shion looked at Nezumi now, mostly dry, dry enough, dry as he could be, and waited for whatever else Nezumi could do to him.

            Long fingers were tight around the dark of Nezumi’s bangs. Knuckles white. A crease between Nezumi’s eyebrows, the rest of him composed.

            Shion concentrated only on these pinpoints of emotion. White knuckles. Crease of skin. White knuckles. Crease of skin.

            “I should not have said all of that, like that. At once. You just kept arguing, and – ” Nezumi shook his head. His fingers were not disengaged despite the movement. The knuckles seemed whiter. “It’s not your fault. I just shouldn’t have said all of that.”

            It didn’t sound like an apology. It sounded like a mass of words, useless, nothing Shion wanted, no words he could pick out, no phrases to take and ignore the rest. Even if he rearranged them in his head, Shion received no relief from them.

            He wiped at his eyes. Reminded them to be dry. It was time to be dry. He couldn’t keep using Nezumi’s napkins. He could not waste what little Nezumi had.

            “Are you going to say something?” Nezumi asked, after a minute passed of Shion telling his eyes to be dry, of his eyes not fully listening, of his palms rising, wiping at them.

            Shion wiped his palms on his sweatshirt. Did not ask for another napkin and was not offered one and was glad for this. They could both pretend he was no longer crying at all.

            “Like what?” Shion asked. His voice thick. Shaky. It was better if he didn’t say anything at all.

            Nezumi dropped his bangs. They looked empty without the white of his knuckles. “I don’t know.”

            Shion didn’t know either. Knew less than Nezumi did. This was Nezumi’s conversation. This was his topic. He was the one in the know, and Shion was lost, unprepared.

            Nezumi’s eyes dropped from Shion’s face. When they returned ten seconds later – Shion counted the seconds in his head – Nezumi said, “You’ll stay tonight. And then that’ll be it. Do you understand?”

            Shion did not understand. He almost laughed at the question, covered his lips so he wouldn’t laugh, so Nezumi wouldn’t see the way his lips turned up.

            It felt inappropriate to laugh. Not a good idea. Right place – How many times had Shion laughed in this kitchen? – but wrong time.

            Shion glanced over his shoulder. The microwave said it was a quarter past eleven.

            “I’ll go,” Shion said, looking at Nezumi again. The crease was gone from between his eyebrows. This made Shion sad.

            No crying, he reminded himself. Dry eyes, he told his tear ducts, those overactive things, those hard workers, too hard working, needed to stop working.

            Shion lifted his hands back up, swiped them over his eyes again.

            “It’s late. And it’s raining. A storm is supposed to break around midnight, you’ll be caught in the middle of it.”

            The window showcased the rain as if it had no other purpose. It didn’t, Shion remembered. It was there to frame the outdoors, to catch drops of rain, flatten them so that they couldn’t wet the indoors, couldn’t wet Nezumi, couldn’t wet Shion, but he was already wet, his face at least, he wiped at it again.

            “Why would I stay if you don’t want me here?” Shion asked. He spoke to the window, the rain.

            “Don’t be stubborn, Shion. It’s raining, just stay the night.”

            Shion didn’t know what the rain had to do with it. What the rain had to do with what Nezumi wanted. What the rain had to do with what anyone wanted.

            It was just weather. It was goddamn weather and it had nothing to do with either of them or what they were doing or what they were no longer going to be doing because Nezumi no longer wanted to be doing it.

            “Are you lying?” Shion asked the rain. He spoke quietly, a whisper, for no particular reason but that his words simply came out that way, forgot to carry any sound when they left his lips, forgot to pick up the right amount of voice on the way out.

            “You’re looking at the rain, you can see that it’s raining.”

            Shion looked at Nezumi. He wasn’t asking about the rain. He was asking about everything else Nezumi had said. He was certain Nezumi knew this, but there was no voice in his head to prove it. “I can’t read your thoughts.”

            “I’m not thinking anything.”

            “How can you not be thinking anything?” Shion demanded. More than a whisper now. Too much voice now.

            Nezumi shook his head, but it was not a yes or no question. “Just stay the night. Don’t go home in this.”

            “I don’t want to stay the night,” Shion snapped. A lie. He was the one lying.

            “Stay the night, Shion.” There was no pleading behind Nezumi’s voice. Just a command.

            “I’m not staying.”

            “You want to drive four hours in the dark in a thunderstorm?” Nezumi demanded.

            “I don’t care about the weather!” A shout. All of Shion’s voice. Everything he had. It triggered his tear ducts, they were set off again, always ready to go, not even a hesitation, incredible stamina, Shion had to be amazed.

            _Calm him down._

            The first thought, and it was this, this bullshit, Shion wanted to throw something, considered the mug, still nearly full, on the counter beside his hand. “Calm me down?” Shion asked, and he meant to shout, forgot to at the last second so all that came out was an odd rasp that didn’t sound like his own voice.

            “I didn’t mean to think that,” Nezumi said, rather quickly. Like he was calming Shion down.

            Shion’s skin felt itchy. His heart was definitely not beating evenly. He wasn’t standing quite still, his leg shaking, or his foot tapping, he couldn’t keep track, he didn’t care.

            “I’m not a rabid animal, Nezumi, you don’t need to calm me down, are you serious? What do you think I’m going to do? Throw my mug of tea at your stupid window and the stupid rain you care so much about?”

            Shion no longer recognized his voice. Nor his words. Nor his feelings, restlessness but more than that, anger but more than that, sadness but more than that, helplessness but more than that.

            Nezumi also looked alarmed. His eyes slid to the mug beside Shion before returning to Shion’s face, those grey eyes, those steady eyes, first time Shion saw those eyes in the aisle of a library with Nezumi’s voice in his head and Nezumi’s fingers on the page of a book, skimming it like the words were written in braille. “Shion – ”

            “Are you lying, Nezumi?” Shion asked, and he was crying again, right through the words, loud and ugly. Shion hated the sound of crying, he hated it.

             “I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the truth.”

            “Then don’t!”

            “Shion,” Nezumi said, but he didn’t say anything after it, like he was waiting for Shion to interrupt him.

            Shion didn’t interrupt him. Had nothing else to say. No way else to say it without crying, and Shion didn’t want to hear himself sob through his words, what a terrible sound.

            There was nothing else to do. Nothing else but to leave, drive home in the thunderstorm. Rain battered the window now. Loud. Shion liked this. It distracted from the sound of his crying.

            He wiped at his eyes. Turned away from Nezumi and his mug of tea that was cold by now, a waste of tea, he hoped Nezumi would at least heat it up, drink it when Shion left.

            At the door, Nezumi was still beside him.

            “Don’t drive home in this.”

            “There’s tea in my mug,” Shion said. He opened the front door. There was a key in his pocket, and he remembered it.

            He didn’t want to give it back. He wasn’t going to break into Nezumi’s apartment. He just didn’t want to give it back.

            “You’re not wearing shoes, Shion. You’re not wearing your coat.”

            Didn’t matter. Shion had the key. He could return for these items. He could always come back.

            Shion looked away from the doorway to tell Nezumi goodbye, at least to get a last look at him, he was so beautiful, Shion wanted a last look.

            Nezumi had disappeared. Shion turned, confused, and there was Nezumi by the bed, picking up Shion’s shoes, picking up his coat.

            He returned to Shion, held them out, and Shion took his coat first, pulled it on, his shoes second, stooped to place them on the carpet, to shove his feet into them.

            “Just stay the night, Shion. I want you to stay the night.”

            “Are you lying?” Shion asked. He was looking at his shoelaces. Still stooped down. Stood up straight and looked at Nezumi.

            “Stop asking me that.”

            “Are you lying?”

            “Dammit, Shion! You’ll get in an accident if you drive right now, you’re crying your eyes out and it’s raining, you’ll drive straight off the road, I really don’t want you to go right now, all right? Can you just stay for the night?”

            “Are you lying?” Shion asked. He liked asking it. It was an easy thing to ask. His tear ducts seemed unaffected. Still released tears, but no more than before.

            Nezumi covered his eyes with his hand. His was breathing hard. It was a relief to look at him, with his eyes covered.

            Shion only wished he could see Nezumi’s eyelashes. Long, curled.

            “It was just sex, Shion. It was never real. Why the hell does it matter if it’s over?”

            Are you lying? The words didn’t come out. Shion’s lips hardly moved around the syllables of them. He forgot to exhale. To speak. To release breath or voice or anything else that might have come out.

            Nezumi wasn’t lying.

            It was just sex. It wasn’t real. These weren’t lies.

            With Nezumi’s eyes still covered, Shion stepped out the doorway. He closed the door behind him. He took the key from his pocket and locked it, realized his mistake too late – Nezumi would know he had it now.

            It was hard to care about such a small thing. Shion turned away from the door. From Nezumi behind it.

            He left Nezumi’s floor. Left Nezumi’s apartment building. Rain fell hard, stormed down. There was thunder and lightning along with it, loud and bright. Shion was extremely wet, walking to his car, but it was nice because there were very little people outside. He didn’t read many thoughts. Those he did read were mostly the same – _Wet._

            The parking garage. His car. The city streets. The exit. The highway. Headlights on, Shion leaned forward, peered out his front window. Saw mostly nothing but the bright streaks his headlights made on the wet road, like two illuminated chains dragging his car forward. Driving took all of his concentration. This was good.

            He was half an hour from Nezumi when Nezumi’s voice spilled into his head, so unexpected that Shion veered out of his lane.

            _He’s gone._

            The road was empty but for Shion, but his heart still raced, his palms wetting the wheel. He inched forward on his seat. Increased his concentration to avoid any other mistake when the rest of Nezumi’s thoughts flooded in.

            There were no more thoughts.

            There was nothing else but thunder, rumbling in the clouds, and rain, slamming his car like thrown stones.

*

 – _Did you get home safely? –_            

            Shion left the text unopened. He could see it without opening it, on the screen with all of his text message conversations lined up, offering previews of the discussions within them.

            Shion didn’t have read receipts. Nezumi would not know if he opened the text. There was no reason to leave it unopened. The only difference between opening it and not was the little blue dot beside Nezumi’s name in his phone, indicating he had a message unread, indicating it was his turn to read it, it was his turn to respond.

            The blue dot remained for two days, and then Nezumi called.

            Shion was chopping walnuts for biscotti. He saw his phone lighting up, he saw Nezumi’s name, he saw that this was a call.

            He put down his knife. Peeled off his gloves. Watched his phone screen, illuminated with Nezumi’s name, and then a notification popped up, alerting Shion of a missed call, a new voicemail.

            Shion picked up his phone. Went to his voicemail. Called it and put his phone to his ear. Listened to the automated message informing him he had one new message even though he’d only just been informed of it, and then there was Nezumi’s voice, not quite in his head, but almost.

            _– Just let me know you didn’t crash your car and die –_

            There were no other words. What if Shion was dead? What if it was his mother, listening to the voicemail? What if all she heard was this?

            Shion didn’t care to let Nezumi know anything. Not for eleven words. That wasn’t enough. That wasn’t anything.

*

That night, Shion had a nightmare that he died in a car crash. He was not in the car, as himself, dying.

            He was outside the car, watching himself die. Above the car. A bird’s eye view. He was terrified and crying when he woke, but after waking had an urge to laugh. He didn’t know why he’d felt so terrified. He hadn’t died. He knew that. His subconscious knew that. It was a peculiar nightmare to have, and there was a moment that Shion wondered if it was not his nightmare.

            It had to be. He’d never shared Nezumi’s nightmares when he wasn’t sleeping beside him. There was no reason for that to start now. There was no reason for Nezumi to even have a nightmare of something like this, so silly compared to his usual nightmares.

            If it was Nezumi’s nightmare, Shion let himself think that it might have been a relief, a break from watching his entire family die, a break from his own burning skin, a break from the loneliness, all that was left with the smoke and ash.

*

The next day, Nezumi called when Shion was showing his mother how to make baklava, a pastry he’d perfected a few weeks before, a new item he’d introduced to the menu that his mother had never tried.

            “Your phone is ringing, honey.”

            Shion already knew this. “That’s fine.”

            “You can take it. I’ll keep layering.”

            “That’s okay.”

            “You don’t trust me?” his mother asked, laughing and poking her elbow at him gently. “Go on.”

            “I’m not talking to him,” Shion said. He sprinkled sliced almonds onto the half-formed pastry.

            Karan didn’t say anything for a minute, and then, “I didn’t ask you why you came home at three thirty in the morning on Sunday because I don’t want to pry. But if you want to talk about it, I’m right here, making a perfect baklava, ready to talk.”

            Shion smiled weakly at the packet of phyllo dough. “There’s nothing to talk about, really.”

            “And that’s why you didn’t pick up his call?”

            Shion nodded.

            “Did you two fight?”

            “We were in a relationship.” Shion looked up at his mother, and there was no surprise there.

            _I hope they didn’t break up. Nezumi made him so happy._

            “You knew?”

            Karan smiled softly. “Was I not supposed to?”

            Shion pulled on the neck of his apron. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I guess I didn’t know how. It wasn’t – It wasn’t a normal relationship, I don’t think. We never called it that. I never thought of it like that, really, until…” Until it was over. He didn’t need to say the words. His mother would know.

            She always knew.

            “He broke up with me on Saturday night,” Shion said. He said it just to say it. To test out the words. Wanted to hear what they’d sound like, if they’d hurt outside as much as they did inside.

            They didn’t. They sounded almost comical. Neither he nor Nezumi had acknowledged their relationship; it felt irrational to acknowledge a break-up.

            “He’s calling you now, isn’t he?”

            Shion glanced at his phone again. The screen blank. Shion could guess he had a voicemail.

            “It’s not – I know what he’s going to say, and it’s not…” Shion couldn’t think of how to explain when there was so much he’d never told her, there was so little he understood.

            “It’s not what you want to hear,” his mother offered, and Shion nodded. “Well, honey, I don’t think you can know that unless you let him speak to you, right?”

            Shion didn’t agree, but he didn’t say so, and he didn’t listen to his voicemail.

            Not until that night, sitting on his bed, his lights already off, his charger plugged into his phone.

            He laid down and held his phone to his ear.

            _– Look. Please just text me a goddamn word. A letter. A period. Come on, Shion –_

            Thirteen words. Shion had to listen to the message three times in order to count them.

            He didn’t know how many words he wanted. But it wasn’t the number.

            It was the words themselves, and Shion didn’t know what words would help, if any could help.

            He doubted it.

*

He dreamt of his death again. His bird’s eye view shifting enough to see into the car. Blood trickled down from his hair, and Shion reached out, but it wasn’t Shion because Shion was in the car.

            The fingers reaching out were long. Familiar. Shion knew these fingers. They wove into his own hair, the Shion-in-the-car’s hair, that white hair, that soft hair, and when he felt the blood it was sticky and cool, like ice. When he pulled his hand away, whoever’s hand it was, that familiar hand with familiar fingers, the blood coated it entirely. It spilled down his wrist. Painted his forearm. Hid the blue tangle of his veins beneath the paper white of his skin.

            Cold, cold, cold.

            Shion woke, crying and terrified as he’d been the night before, but quickly calmed again, his first thought that blood was not cold, an unexpected inaccuracy.

            He knew that it had been Nezumi’s nightmare. That had been Nezumi’s hand. He had been in Nezumi’s body. He had read Nezumi’s mind.

            Shion sat up. Wiped his face to dry it, reached for his phone, unplugged it, and opened the text he’d left unopen for three days.

            _– I’m not dead –_

            It occurred to him, after he sent the text, that he could have just as easily replied _– I’m alive._ More easily, even, just two words.

            He didn’t know why he hadn’t. He didn’t know why it would make a difference. He didn’t know if it would make a difference at all.

            He thought about it until he fell asleep again. The unconsciousness that followed was thick, dreamless.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quoted book in this chapter:
> 
> The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde


	5. Chapter 5

Shion’s head was not empty of Nezumi’s voice.

            The first time he heard it, he dropped the pan of cookies he’d been taking out of the oven. Nezumi was reading lines for a play. Shion stood in the bakery kitchen and listened, cookies cooling on the tile.

            The second time he was with Safu, no longer seeing the words on the flashcards he held or hearing Safu asking if she’d gotten the last definition right. Nezumi was at the grocery store, trying to calculate the value of one can of tomato sauce on sale, four for nine.

            The third time Shion was in the shower, bar of soap squeezed out of his hands that he never picked up, finding it sitting by the drain the next day. Nezumi was checking out books in the library, cursing over a late fee.

            The fourth time was a nightmare. The skin of Shion’s back burned. His family died around him, but it wasn’t his family. He didn’t remember this until he woke, instinctively turning to comfort the man beside him, but there was no man beside him. In his head, he listened to Nezumi’s sadness until the man’s voice faded completely, and Shion was not sure if Nezumi had fallen back asleep or if his thoughts had simply slipped away, as easily as they’d come.

            Shion didn’t know the rules. Why he received Nezumi’s thoughts in odd moments. He preferred not knowing. The surprise of Nezumi’s voice, nothing he could wait on, nothing he could anticipate. Sometimes there were hours between hearing Nezumi’s thoughts. The longest span was three weeks, and then that span was surpassed by five weeks of silence.

            Time passed in this new way, no longer segmented by minutes, hours, days, weeks, months. Marked instead by Nezumi’s voice, sometimes in Shion’s head for only a word, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes hours, once an entire day, small words throughout, phrases, longer patches of Nezumi’s voice during his rehearsal and later that night his show, and after that Shion fell asleep to Nezumi reading a book past one in the morning.

            The months did not feel like months. The seasons did not change like seasons. The sun did not rise as it had, the Earth’s rotation sped and slowed without routine.

            On Shion’s birthday, over half a year since he’d seen Nezumi last, Shion heard his name in Nezumi’s thoughts in the early morning.

            _Shion’s birthday. Twenty-two._

            There was nothing else than that. Shion was brushing his teeth. He’d heard Nezumi think his name before. Not often, but in small moments, like in June when it was raining –

            _Raining. Shion._

            Or in April, when the flowers bloomed –

            _Asters. Shion._

            Or in August, for no reason Shion could detect while he scrubbed out the oven in the bakery kitchen –

            _Shion._

            Shion knew that Nezumi had been lying, that third weekend in February, when he’d told Shion he didn’t want to keep doing what they were doing.

            He’d known, standing in Nezumi’s kitchen, his skin hot and his eyes watering, that Nezumi did not want to stop, that Nezumi did not find Shion’s company dissatisfying, unenjoyable.

            He had known this as he’d sobbed and hated the sound of it. He had known this driving home in the storm, unable to see. He had known this ignoring Nezumi’s text messages. He knew this refusing to contact Nezumi again as the days passed, the weeks passed, the months passed, the year passed.

            On Christmas, Shion washed dishes after dinner at Safu and her grandmother’s house, Safu drying beside him. Shion did not call Nezumi, despite the pattern formed over the two previous years. He did not have Nezumi’s voice in his head for the entirety of the day.

            It was not surprising, and Shion was not waiting for it. He hadn’t had Nezumi’s voice in his head for a week at that point, and he wouldn’t for another three days until Nezumi walked outside, cursing the snow that had melted in his boots, soaking his socks.

            On New Year’s Eve, Nezumi thought about champagne at seven minutes to midnight.

            _To the New Year._

            Shion raised his own flute of champagne in Safu’s apartment, and Safu reminded him that they still had seven minutes to go.

            Shion knew Nezumi missed him. Shion missed Nezumi back.

            But they had never been a possibility, could never have been real. Nezumi would never let anyone get close to him. He would suppress his thoughts, have his secrets, and while Shion did not mind this, liked the silence of Nezumi’s head, the quiet, the calm, it would not be real if they never opened up to each other.

            Shion did not want to give Nezumi his own truths. Did not want to burden Nezumi, who had enough problems on his own.

            Their locations, as well, were incompatible. Shion couldn’t live in the city, and Nezumi couldn’t leave it.

            When Shion explained this to Safu, sometime late November, she accused Shion of making up excuses, of being scared because relationships were hard, and Shion preferred what he’d had with Nezumi to be simple, easy, to let Nezumi remain the perfect man, an illusion that would shatter if they ever really got to know each other.

            Shion had pointed out that Safu had never had a relationship, so she could not be the judge of such a thing despite her usual blanketing expertise. Furthermore, Shion did not believe Nezumi was the perfect man.

            Nezumi was beautiful and temperamental. Closed off and secretive. Gentle and intelligent. Stubborn and cold. Reluctant and shrewd. Comforting and distant.

            A year passed. In the third week of February, Shion had his earphones in, listening to a video lecture and taking notes on patellar subluxation, the unstable kneecap, when over the voice of the professor was Nezumi’s.

            _A year. That’s enough now. Forget him now._

            Shion paused the lecture video. Kept his earphones in and listened to the silence in his head for over an hour before he let it play again.

            He wondered if Nezumi managed to forget him. Knew Nezumi could suppress his thoughts, and wasn’t that the same? If Nezumi could never think about him, then that was just another way to forget.

            At the end of March, Shion found that Nezumi did not achieve his own imposition. Shion was drafting an email to the professor he’d previously worked for, back when he went to school in the city. He was inquiring about remote jobs or positions in a lab at which he could intern during the summer. In his head, as he deleted _Hello_ and replaced it with _Dear_ and then reversed the change of his salutation to his former professor once more, there was Nezumi’s voice.

            _Shion has that shirt._

            Shion forgot about his email. Wondered what shirt it was. What color, what style, if he still had it, if maybe it was the shirt he was wearing at that moment, a long-sleeved t-shirt of different shades of blue stripes.

            In April on a Sunday, Shion intended to study for a final, but Nezumi’s voice was with him for six hours of the afternoon, reading a book that Shion identified by typing the words of Nezumi’s voice into a Google search – _Great Expectations_ by Charles Dickens. Despite catching the book somewhere after the exposition, Shion became sucked into the plot, and when Nezumi’s voice faded away again around nine, Shion left his house to go to the library.

            It was a Sunday night, and the library was closed. The next day when it was open, they didn’t have a copy of the book. Shion put it on hold, picked it up four days later, opened it and stared at the ink on paper, the black on white, the words on the page, and closed it right back.

            He could not stand to finish it like this, his head silent, the text stripped of Nezumi’s voice.

            In May, a year and three months after Shion had last seen Nezumi, Shion lay awake at night and listened to Nezumi masturbating. He heard his own name, thoughts about his features – his eyes, his hair, his scar, his skin, his lips, his eyelashes, his fingers, his thighs, more than that.

            Shion clutched his bedsheets. Tempted to touch himself – how easy it would be, to climax to this voice – but he didn’t want to distract himself from the thoughts in his head, to let his own pleasure override that which he heard, Nezumi’s voice so vividly, breaking, stressed, urgent, half-formed. Moans in his head. Gasps. Muffled sounds and soft sounds, and Shion was hard, leaking precum without touching himself, shoved his face in his pillow until he could not breathe and left it there still.

            When Nezumi climaxed Shion’s legs shook. Shion’s breath was short. There was sweat on his chest and palms and lower back.

            He laid, pulsing, as Nezumi’s thoughts dissipated, and his own head was empty again.

            When Nezumi kissed someone else, Shion heard it too. It was June. The day was hot. Shion was taking a nighttime jog, listening to music, and then Nezumi’s voice joined the lyrics, and Shion silenced the song.

            _Might’s well. Cute enough, lips, lips –_

            Shion stopped jogging. He was nearly done his jog, stood in front of the movie theater across the bakery and stared up at the sign listing that night’s movies without reading the titles. He could tell Nezumi was drunk. After another half minute of thoughts, he could tell Nezumi was kissing someone. Nezumi did not offer a name in his thoughts, and Shion wondered if Nezumi knew it.

            He found it interesting, that Nezumi was drunk. Could tell this was the first time Nezumi was kissing someone after Shion.

            The first time Shion had kissed someone after Nezumi, he had also been drunk. It had been four months before. Shion had done more than kiss that person.

            After some time, Shion resumed jogging, deciding to repeat his route. Nezumi’s thoughts were still in his head, remained there for an hour more until Shion assumed Nezumi passed out on this person’s bed.

            They had not had sex. Nezumi had been very drunk, thoughts slurred and heavy and nearly nonsensical by the last words of it. Shion hoped the person he was with had turned Nezumi on his side in case he vomited during his sleep.

            Shion learned also through Nezumi’s thoughts that Nezumi owed his large sum of debt to the owner of the theater. He learned this from hearing Nezumi count, at first just a list of numbers, then a few thoughts slipped in so that Shion understood he was counting his paycheck – what was left of it, after three-quarters of it had been taken by the owner. He received no other information on the subject.

            In this way, life continued. And it was late October, Shion freshly twenty-three and one year and eight months from parting with Nezumi, that Shion read from Nezumi’s thoughts –           

            _Oh. Smells incredible. Cinnamon?_    

            Shion was icing cinnamon buns in the bakery kitchen. He smiled at the coincidence. He liked the rare occasions when Nezumi’s thoughts aligned with his own life despite their distance.

            It had been some time since Shion read Nezumi’s thoughts last. He paused to try to remember. Six weeks. Roughly that.

            _Busy. Warm. Cinnamon._

            Shion could not tell where Nezumi was. Usually, it wasn’t difficult to guess. Nezumi frequented the same places – his apartment, the theater, the library, the grocery store, the city streets on walks to these places.

            _Long line. Not surprising. Smells incredible._

            The cinnamon buns were iced. Shion placed them in the oven, only for a minute more. The icing would trickle down the sides of the buns, melt into their swirls. He’d apply another thin coat on top the moment he took them from the oven.

            Waiting, Shion took off his gloves, used a clean spoon to sample the icing he’d made. It was sweet on his lips.

            _Just like Shion. Kind eyes. Same lips. Pink. Same smile._

            Shion watched the oven door. He had the light of the oven on, liked to watch the icing melt. He was curious as to this person who looked like him that Nezumi was seeing. Surprised that Nezumi was allowing his thoughts to dwell on him for as long as they were. Rarely, this happened. On the infrequent occasion that Nezumi did think of him, it was clearly accidental, just a moment, a fleeting thought then gone.

            Nezumi’s thoughts were more concentrated now. Not shying away. Lingering.

            _Not Shion’s nose. No scar, a shame. Not those red eyes, a shame._

            Shion squinted at the oven door. A minute had passed. He listened to the timer but didn’t move. There was no icing left on the spoon, but he kept it at his lips. In his thoughts, he heard words that he didn’t think belonged to Nezumi – someone was speaking to him, and Nezumi was repeating the words in his head, words repeated in Shion’s head in turn.

            _Hello there, what can I get for you today?_

            _Warm voice._

            The timer turned off. Shion remembered the cinnamon buns. Dropped the spoon and opened the oven quickly, the icing too melted, liquefied. Shion noticed only vaguely.

            He replaced his gloves. Picked up the spreader to re-ice them. Listened for Nezumi’s next thoughts.

            _Chocolate chip cookies. Raspberry scones. Cherry pie. But something smells like cinnamon…_

            Shion had been dolloping icing on one cinnamon bun, adding more and more. He looked down at it. Attempted to shift icing from its top to spread to the others.

            _Ah, still in the oven. I can wait._

            Shion grabbed the edge of the pan to hold onto something, and his skin burned through his gloves. His inhale was a hiss of pain.

            He shook out his hand. Peeled off his gloves again. Stared at the two lines on his thumb and forefinger, red, searing.

            _Does she know about me?_

            Shion lifted his hand to his lips. Sucked on the throbbing skin. Contemplated the mess of cinnamon buns in front of him, half-iced, those that were iced done so sloppily, one still with much too much icing in a sloped heap on top of it.

            He had to fix them before he brought them out to the front. He took his hand from his lips. Went to the sink to wash it. Suds of soap clinging to his skin, collecting at the drain. Dried his hands. Gloved them. Back to icing.

            _Crowded. Empty table._

            Shion worked slowly. Spread the icing evenly. Concentrated. Replaced them in the oven, watched the numbers of his timer, took them out in time, icing perfectly melted now.

            One more layer, thin, barely there, hardly noticeable. Shift the buns to a display pan. Peel off gloves. Pick up pan. Balance carefully. Don’t trip.

            _Might not be here. Could be anywhere. At Safu’s. Where is Safu? Should have asked his mother._

            There were no mirrors in the hall from the kitchen to the front of the bakery. Shion wanted only to make sure there was no icing on his face, cinnamon in his hair. Wanted only to make sure his skin was not pink.

            He felt hot. The kitchen was hot. The oven always on. Had to work quickly in the summer, a busy season. It made sense that he felt hot. He had every reason to feel hot.

            He looked down at his shirt. Just a white t-shirt. He thought there was some stain on it, covered by his apron. He was wearing an apron. Why didn’t he take off the apron?

            _Quaint town. Cute movie theater._

            Shion knew what window looked out at the movie theater across the street. Knew what table sat beside that window. Knew what chair faced that street.

            He toed the swinging door open with his shoe. Old Converse covered in flour. His baking shoes. Stains of fallen apple pie mix, sticky pecan tart syrup. Battered, bruised. His jeans were old too. A rip in their knee. The left one.

            Shion didn’t look around at the tables once he’d cleared the door with his tray of cinnamon buns. He never did. He didn’t mind looking at the customers, used to their thoughts, most of them regulars, most of them thinking only of the smells, of the taste, of their considerations if they hadn’t ordered yet. If not, they thought about problems Shion was familiar with, reading their thoughts constantly, fully updated on their lives, nothing new.

            Even so, he could easily only look at the baked goods in his hands. Had an excuse to look down at the display pans he carried out from the kitchen to the front. Make sure nothing slid off. Make sure the pastries were safe on their journeys up to the counter.

            At the counter, he looked at his mother, smiling at a customer, in her thoughts only the customer’s order, in the customer’s thoughts only his contemplation as to how many cupcakes his daughters could eat, whether three each was too much, what sort of sugar rush that would result in, if his wife would blame him as the bringer of cupcakes for that sugar rush.

            Shion opened the back of the display counter to place in the cinnamon buns.

            “Oh, honey, before you go, we just had a customer asking for one of those. I told him they’d be right out. He already paid, he’s sitting at that table at the corner where you like to sit. Can you take one to him?”

            Shion looked at his mother, and in her thoughts read the description of the customer.

            He didn’t need a description. He knew what the customer looked like. He knew everything about this customer’s appearance, knew every inch of this customer’s body.

            _Grey eyes. What a beautiful boy._

            “The corner table?” Shion confirmed, not looking towards it.

            His mother nodded, a gentle smile. “Your table.”

            “Oh, those smell good, maybe I’ll take – um – four of those?” the customer in line said. In his thoughts –

            _Aiko’s going to kill me. Smell so good though, can’t help it, I’ll make sure the girls eat their vegetables first._

            Shion left the tray on top of the counter so his mother could serve the current customer. He took one with a clean pair of tongs from the counter behind him. Placed it in the middle of a plate. Picked up a napkin. A fork, a knife. Walked around his mother, looked at the other customers as he wove around tables, read their thoughts, and then he was looking at Nezumi.

            His face turned to the window, chin rested in his palm, elbow rested on the table. The line of his profile so familiar. Dark bangs tucked behind his ear. Inky and long, a messy ponytail. Long legs under the table, black jeans, knees bent, his boots under his chair, the toes of one touching the floor, the other hooked over the back of that.

            A t-shirt Shion knew, light blue, a few buttons only down a few inches at his chest, three of those buttons undone and one fastened. Nezumi’s skin, paper-white. Cheeks hollow, but he looked healthier than the last time Shion had seen him.

            One year and eight months before. Shion hadn’t been counting. He didn’t need to count to know. Like age, a fact he was aware of without needing to consciously keep track.

            Nezumi’s mind was silent. He didn’t turn from the window. Shion was beside the table. Placed the plate at the very edge, slid it closer to Nezumi, who turned, eyes on the plate first, then looking up.

            _Cinnamon bun. Shion._

            “Hi,” Shion said. He wiped his hands on his apron even though there was nothing on them. Vaguely, the gesture aroused the shallow burn on his fingers.

            “Hi,” Nezumi said. His thoughts were quick.

            _Red eyes. Can’t read expression. Pink lips. Kiss those lips. White hair. Longer. Needs a hair cut. He’s reading my mind._

“Sorry,” Shion offered, and Nezumi’s soft smile was unexpected.

            “Don’t be.”

            Shion’s heart was in his throat at that smile. “How did you come here? I mean – How did you know where – ”

            “I know your mom’s name, I know she owns a bakery. They have this excellent thing called the internet nowadays on the computers at the library, and the fact that it’s called Karan’s Bakery was pretty telltale.”

            “But what if I wasn’t here?” Shion asked. He was still looking at Nezumi’s smile, the smile given to the pages of books when Nezumi read, soft and secret.

            It made Shion’s chest ache.

            “I didn’t come for you, I came for the pastries. Some glowing reviews on that internet I mentioned.”

            He was joking. That goddamn smile. Shion thought his heart would burst. Wanted to press his hand to his chest. Hold it in.

            “But – Why are you here?” Shion asked.

            He didn’t mean to ask it. He meant only to think it, then to answer it in his own head. He already knew the answer. There was no need to ask.

            Nezumi was here to see him.

            Nezumi just looked at him. That smile was gone, but he did not look unhappy. “Do you want to sit down?” he asked, after a moment.

            What a silly question. Almost as silly as Shion’s had been.

            “Can you, I mean,” Nezumi amended, realizing, probably, how foolish his previous question had been. “Do you have time? You’re working.”

            “I don’t have time,” Shion said. This wasn’t a lie. They were nearly out of an assortment of cookies. The summer months were always like this, busy. Hot in the kitchen.

            “Okay,” Nezumi said.

            _Taller? Handsome. Sexy._

            And then –

            _I can leave if you want._

            “I don’t want you to leave. Can you stay?” Shion asked, but he meant to ask – _How long can you stay?_ The words came out wrong. Nezumi’s voice in his head distracted him. Nezumi sitting at the corner table in his mother’s bakery distracted him. Nezumi’s smile when Shion said _– I don’t want you to leave –_ distracted him.

            _I can stay._

            Shion didn’t ask how long. Didn’t offer Nezumi a chance to tell him.

            “Okay. Enjoy your cinnamon bun.”

            “I’m sure I will.” Nezumi was still smiling when Shion turned around.

            Pressed his hand to his chest, hard. Felt his heartbeat. Looked at other people as he walked to the swinging door, then had no thoughts in his head at all as he walked down the small hall, into the hot kitchen.

            He was wiping down the counter to clean drops of icing so he could start on a batch of sugar cookies when there was Nezumi’s voice, back in his head.

            _What the fuck. This is insanely good. Shion, are you hearing this? Did you make these? How are they so good?_

            Shion cupped his hand over his lips. Listened to his heartbeat, how loud it was.

            His skin was hot, but it was hot in the kitchen in the summer, with the oven on and how busy it got. It was only natural to feel the entire sun, right inside his chest.

*

_One of the strange things about living in a world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever._

            It was afternoon when Shion left the kitchen, saving the cleaning for later that night and ducking up the stairs to change his shirt before coming back down, toeing open the door between the back hall and front room of the bakery, realizing he’d left on his baking Converse. Too late to change them.

            _One knows it is sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one’s head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening…_

            Nezumi still sat at the corner table, an empty plate in front of him, reading a book.

            _…until the East almost makes one cry out and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising sun –_

            Shion had heard, from in the kitchen while he baked, when Nezumi started reading. He didn’t know where Nezumi had gotten the book. Had he brought it with him? Shion hadn’t noticed it before, but he hadn’t noticed much but Nezumi’s smile.

            _…which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years._

            Shion could tell, as he listened to Nezumi read in the kitchen, that Nezumi was not skipping passages. He was reading in order, reading to read, the plot shaping in Shion’s head, images forming as he mixed the right parts of flour with the right parts of sugar.

            _One knows it then for a moment or so…And it was like that with Colin when he first saw and heard and felt the Springtime inside the four high walls of a hidden garden._

            Shion waited for Nezumi to finish his sentence before he sat down across from him, trying to see the title of Nezumi’s book when Nezumi looked up, flipped down the corner of its page, closed it.

            _Changed his shirt._

            “Did you bring that here?” Shion asked, pointing at the book, face down on the table.

            “You caught me.”

            “I didn’t notice it. It’s been here the whole time?”

            “Definitely has,” Nezumi confirmed.

            Shion spread his palms flat on top of the table. Late afternoon sunlight coated the backs of his hands. “Why did you bring a book?”

            “To read.” Nezumi’s lips twitched.

            “How did you get here?” Shion asked, realizing he didn’t know.

            “Bus.”

            “You took the bus here?”

            “Are you okay? Do you need a glass of water?” Nezumi asked, raising an eyebrow.

            _You seem very confused._

“I am very confused!” Shion said, louder than he’d meant to, his hands lifting from the table, dropping onto his lap.

            Nezumi tucked his bangs behind his ear.

            Shion hadn’t realized his own restlessness until it was pointed out to him. He rubbed his palms over his jeans, gave himself a break from looking at Nezumi to look out the window, accidentally looked at someone, thoughts of a mysterious itch on the back of the woman’s neck flooding Shion’s head until he looked away from her at Nezumi again.

            Nezumi, in front of him. Nezumi, here.

            _Do you want me to leave?_

            “I don’t want you to leave.” Shion rested one elbow on the table. Rubbed at his forehead.

            “Do you have a headache?”

            “No.”

            “Do you want to ask more questions since you’re confused?”

            Shion shook his head. Closed his eyes. “I don’t know.” His eyes were closed, but there were Nezumi’s thoughts anyway, didn’t follow any rules.

            _Are you upset that I’m here?_

            “I’m not upset.” Shion opened his eyes. He didn’t know what he was. Confused. Restless. Something else, maybe. It felt like a lot of things.

            _I wanted to see you._

            Shion sat up, dropped his hand from his forehead. “I know that. Nezumi, I know that. But that doesn’t explain – It doesn’t make sense that you came here.”

            _I know._

            “Okay.” Shion would break it up. Divide the confusion. Tackle it one segment at a time. “Why now? Why today? Why did you get a bus ticket for today?”

            “They’re cheapest on Tuesdays.”

            The answer made more sense than Shion was expecting. It still didn’t satisfy any curiosity. “Well – But – What about last Tuesday? Or next Tuesday?”

            _I don’t know, Shion._

            “So you just came here? You wanted to see me last week, the week before, the week before, every week, but this week, you felt – What? What was different? What’s different now, Nezumi, what’s different than standing in your kitchen with you telling me you didn’t want this anymore? What’s different than a year and eight months ago? Nothing is different.”

            Nezumi’s lips were parted, eyes wider. _Have you been reading my thoughts?_

            Shion waved a hand. That was irrelevant. “Sometimes. I can’t control it, it would just happen.”

            “Just happen? When? How often?”

            Shion did not know why Nezumi was so concerned. His thoughts had still been relatively suppressed. Nezumi had not thought anything seemingly embarrassing, unexpected.

            “Sometimes, Nezumi, it doesn’t matter. Sometimes days in a row, sometimes not for a few weeks, a month. Sometimes for a minute only, sometimes for hours. There was never any logic to it.”

            Nezumi stared for a moment, then looked out the window.

            _What did you read?_

            “Nothing. Some things. Nothing I didn’t know.” Shion left out the debt Nezumi owed to the owner of the theater. Nothing seemed less relevant in their lives at that moment than Nezumi’s debt to the owner of the theater.

            Nezumi’s smile was a little snide at the window. _Oh, nothing you didn’t know, huh? Cause you know everything._

            “I don’t know why you’re here,” Shion said.

            Long fingers strung through Nezumi’s bangs, let them go, and Nezumi was looking at Shion again. “Tell me why you dropped out of college.”

            There was no thought in Nezumi’s mind to rationalize this request.

            “That’s why you’re here? To ask me that?” Shion didn’t believe it.

            “Among other things.” Nezumi’s mind was still silent.

            “I don’t want to tell you,” Shion said.

            “Why not?”

            “Why should I burden you with my issues when we’re not even in each other’s lives anymore?”

            “I’m still in your life. You’ve been reading my thoughts all this time, haven’t you? And if you’re reading them, you know you’re still in my life.”

            To hear Nezumi say this, as straightforward as he did, was almost more surprising than Nezumi sitting at this table, reading a book in his mother’s bakery, eating a cinnamon bun that Shion had made that morning.

            “I don’t see how why I dropped out of college matters,” Shion said, ignoring what Nezumi had said because he wasn’t entirely sure Nezumi had said it, maybe it was a delusion, maybe this was all a dream.

            “Maybe if you tell me, I’ll tell you why it matters,” Nezumi said, not entirely without exasperation.

            Shion just looked at him. What a long time it’d been since he looked at him. Shion wondered if he would even keep talking at all, when he preferred to just look.

            Nezumi waited half a minute, then sighed, running his fingers through his bangs again.

            _Still so damn stubborn._

            “All right, I’ll go first if you insist on being difficult. Remember that debt record you saw in my kitchen drawer?”

            Shion nodded. It didn’t require talking. He was surprised that Nezumi was talking about his debt – What did that have to do with anything? – but he could easily be silently surprised.

            “I owe it to the owner of the theater.”

            Shion nodded again. He knew that.

            _You knew that._

            “Sorry.” Shion accidentally spoke.

            “What else do you know about it?”

            “Nothing.” He’d already spoken, might as well keep going. Just one word replies. Not too bad. He could keep looking at Nezumi without much interruption if he only supplied one word.

            Grey eyes, searching. Lips, soft. Nezumi’s hand raising to cup around the back of his neck. Shion traced the length of his arm. Pale skin. Lean muscles. Strong, solid.

            “I’ll pay off that debt next year. Should take until about September, maybe October, about a year from now.”

            Quick glance down at the table. Flicker of eyelashes. Long, curled. He looked up again.

            “I can leave the theater after that. Until then, I’m tied to the city. I’ve got to keep working there, we have a deal, and I can’t break it.”

            Shion was so startled he forgot he wasn’t speaking but for one word replies. “You want to leave the theater?”

            “No. I’m saying that I can in a year. That it’s a possibility.”

            “Why do you care about it as a possibility if you don’t want to leave? You love the theater,” Shion accused, not knowing why it was an accusation but that it sounded like one, leaving his lips.

            _Kid is freaking impossible._

             “You can’t call me a kid, we’re the same age,” Shion objected.

            Nezumi’s stare was flat. “Shion, try not to be difficult, I know that’s hard for you. Your turn. Why did you drop out?”

            “It’s not my turn, you didn’t explain anything. Why do you owe that debt? If you’re going to tell me about it, you have to tell me everything.” Shion’s curiosity was revealed. He couldn’t take it back now. He didn’t want to.

            Nezumi was supposed to be Shion’s escape, but he wasn’t anymore. He was gone. He wasn’t in Shion’s life.

            Why shouldn’t Shion know everything about him? What was the harm now? What could they lose now?

            _Those men._

            Shion felt his shoulders drop. He knew, immediately, from the tone of Nezumi’s voice in his head, what men Nezumi was talking about.

            “Do you still want to know?” Nezumi asked, his words careful.

            Shion stared at him. “Can you – Do you feel comfortable telling me, or – If not, then, Nezumi, I don’t want you to – ”

            “I don’t mind. I’d like to tell you, but if you would rather we didn’t talk about that night, I won’t. That’s perfectly fine, Shion.”

            _Are you okay?_

            Nezumi acted as if Shion had really been there. As if he hadn’t only dreamt it, as if it hadn’t been Nezumi’s nightmare to begin with. As if he’d experienced it himself – but it felt that way, reading Nezumi’s nightmare, feeling the packed snow on the road dig into the heels of his bare feet, trying to tug his arms free from the men that held it, shoulders searing.

            “Yes. I’m okay.”

            Nezumi looked at him a moment more, then nodded. Shion watched his chest, watched Nezumi breathe, the inhale before he started speaking. “When I pulled the gag out of my mouth and screamed, I told you, someone heard me. It was the owner of the theater, he’d just closed it up for the night. He found me while those men were dragging me to wherever they planned on taking me. The men had guns, but the owner of the theater had money.” Nezumi shrugged, as if the rest was simple, common sense, didn’t require any explanation.

            Shion was leaning forward. Elbows dug into the table where he’d sat countless times before. Where he’d done schoolwork with Safu after class. He’d worked on book reports at this table. Read his textbooks. Applied for colleges.

            “Nezumi, I don’t understand. The owner of your theater…bought you? He owns you?”

            Nezumi’s laugh was the last thing Shion expected, the strangest sound to hear with Shion’s heart beating so oddly in his chest.

            “You don’t need to be so dramatic, this isn’t a Shakespearean play. He doesn’t own me, I just owe him money. He paid the men off to scatter, then let me live in the theater. Since my family died a few months before I’d been living on the streets, stealing, running into assholes like that pretty frequently, that was just the only time I’d gotten caught. The owner was a good guy. Fair. He gave me free reign of the theater, a set of keys, and he bought a fridge for it that he kept stocked with food. Good food too, a balanced diet, not the shit I was living off on the street. I lived in that theater for seven years. Till I was fourteen, and then he loaned me more money to rent my own place and a grocery stipend.”

            To hear Nezumi so easily speak about his past, spill it without any hesitation, was almost surreal. It was so much information, and Nezumi gave it to Shion like it was nothing, like it was just any other past, any other childhood.

             “I started working a few months after I moved into the theater, not acting of course, it’s a distinguished theater and I was some untrained kid. But I could do stage hand tasks, cleaned a lot, janitorial stuff. I was able to do more the older I got, and the owner kept tabs of it all. He’s not a cheap man, but he wasn’t giving me a hand-out, and I understood that. Everything he gave, I would pay back. I preferred it that way. I didn’t want pity money and probably wouldn’t have lived there if I’d felt like a charity case.”

            “You weren’t a charity case, you were a homeless child,” Shion objected, unable to help himself.

            Nezumi ruffled his fingers through his hair in a quick motion. The first sign that he was not fully composed talking about his past, though Shion didn’t know what other emotion this signified. “Well, to the owner I was just an employee. I was around for rehearsals, listening while I did whatever, cleaned the auditorium seats or sewed up someone’s torn costume. When I wasn’t working, I read old script books. I practiced lines in the nights, using all the acting advice and training I’d heard during the day. When I was fifteen I was giving tips to the hired actors, reading lines with them. When I was seventeen, one of the directors told me to audition. I did. Got the part. That’s about it.”

            There was a silence that followed, but Shion quickly broke it. “You didn’t go to school?” He couldn’t believe he’d never known this.

            “What was school going to do for me? What was I ever going to use calculus for? It’d be seven hours of the day wasted where I could have been working off the debt I owed to receive shelter, food, safety. Our lives are different, Shion.” He paused for a moment, then added, “That doesn’t make mine tragic.”

            “I know that,” Shion said quickly.

            “Then don’t look at me like mine was.”

            “I’m not looking at you like your life was tragic. I’m looking at you like – like I’m in shock. I’m in shock. That was a lot. I’m absorbing.”

            _Absorbing._

            Nezumi shook his head, but he didn’t seem mad. He looked out the window, his chin resting on his palm again.

            He looked calm. Calming. Shion liked to look at him.

            “I didn’t know any of that,” Shion said, unnecessarily.

            “I know you didn’t. That’s why I told you.” Nezumi spoke to the window.

            “Why did you tell me?”

            Nezumi didn’t say anything, but he thought –

            _You should have known for a long time. I wanted someone to know. I wanted you to know._

            Nezumi had taken his hair out of its ponytail in the hours since Shion had placed the cinnamon bun on his table. Shion looked at the way the strands fell over his neck, skin, shoulders, shirt.

            “But even after you pay off what you owe the owner, you’ll still work there.” Shion said the words slowly. Tested them. They sounded correct to him.

            Nezumi looked away from the window. “Why did you drop out of college?”

            Shion allowed the change of topic. He took a breath. He had to tell Nezumi. It was his turn. He didn’t know why they were taking turns, telling each other the truths about their lives, but it was his turn, and it was only fair.

            “I told you mind reading gives me headaches. But they’re more like migraines. It’s not like hearing sounds normally. It’s voices right in my head, up close, loud, hectic, impossible to block out unless I close my eyes, and I can’t walk around the city with my eyes closed. It gets really bad when I’m around a lot of people, and here, in my small town, I got to know everyone. The thoughts I read here are more like conversation than thoughts most of the time.”

            Nezumi said nothing. Watched Shion carefully. Shion felt the focus of his grey eyes. The attention. Unbroken, no other thoughts in Nezumi’s head.

            “And I felt – ” Shion looked at his hands, fingers curled into each other on the table. “I felt – I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve always been intelligent. I could have skipped grades in school but didn’t because I didn’t want to leave school any faster. My teachers were always telling me I would do great things, and I believed them. I particularly like science, medical science. I wanted to help people. And then I could read minds, and I realized how many people needed help. Everyone. Everyone’s worries in my head, and in the city it was only worse. And every problem I heard, I felt more useless.”

            _Useless._

            Shion looked up. Nezumi’s gaze was slightly narrowed, but nothing else touched his expression.

            “Yeah. Useless. I was smart, and that wasn’t a gift, that was hard work and studying and reading. But mind reading, that was a gift. I have it, I should do something with it, something incredible. I can hear everything everyone thinks. I can help people with problems they can’t admit, or don’t know how to. I can hear the people who can’t speak, people who are scared to. There is so much I can do, I am so incredibly privileged, and every single day in the city, every second walking around campus, I was reminded of that. Everything that I could do and everything that I couldn’t _._ I couldn’t because I had migraines. I couldn’t because it hurt, I felt these people’s problems like they were my own because they were right in my head, right there, with my own thoughts, louder than my thoughts.”

            Shion rubbed at his eyes. He didn’t care that they were wet. He wanted to finish, to tell Nezumi everything.

            Nezumi hadn’t looked away from him, not for a second.

            “I know I can’t help everyone. I know that’s a conceited thought, self-centered. I’m not a superhero. Remember, when you called me that? The first day we really talked? But you were just joking, and I’m not. But I feel this responsibility to do something. I feel useless that I can’t. I’m sure I could help some people, but I don’t know what people, I don’t know how I can just work in a research lab when there’s other people with the ability to work in research labs, and I should be doing more because I can do more, I have this ability no one else does, I should be putting it to good use, I’m wasting it, I’m a waste, why should I be able to read minds if I can’t do anything with it – ”

            “Shion.”

            Shion was out of breath. Pressed his palms to his eyes and breathed hard, his breath a little sticky, but he could pull himself together, and he worked to do so.

            “You don’t really think you’re a waste,” Nezumi said gently.

            Shion shook his head. He caught his breath. “No.” His voice was small.

            “You’re not a waste.”

            “I know.”       

            “It’s not your responsibility to help the entire world just because you can hear their problems.”

            “I know.”

            “If you couldn’t read minds, what would you be doing?”

            Shion dropped his hands from his eyes. Stared at Nezumi, felt that his lips were open. “What?” he breathed.

            Nezumi’s eyes slipped quickly back and forth between Shion’s. “What?”

            “What did you just ask me?”

            _Are you all right? I asked what you would be doing if you couldn’t read minds._

            “I’ve never thought about that. I never asked myself that. That never occurred to me as something to ask myself,” Shion said. He felt almost numb with Nezumi’s words.

            How could he not have considered that? Such a simple question, but for the first time Shion felt like he could figure out what he wanted to do. Like there was an answer.

            “Okay. Well. I’m asking you now. What would you be doing?”

            “Teaching. I’d be a professor.” Shion didn’t need to think about it. He knew, instantaneously, in a way he hadn’t ever known before. “And I’d want to work on research for medical advancements as well, but primarily teaching.”

            “Then do that.”           

            “I can’t do that.”

            “Why can’t you do that?”

            “I can’t look at a classroom of students. I can’t do any of it.”

            “Sure you can. Blind people teach all the time, don’t they? Get yourself a pair of sunglasses, tape paper to the inside of them so you can’t see, and lecture a class on all the bones of the body or whatever it is you’re interested in.”

            Shion shook his head. “That won’t work. And it wouldn’t be fair. Other people can be professors. People who can’t read minds can be professors, I should be doing more.”

            “You have no obligation to do anything. But if it’ll make you feel better, then use your mind reading to help one person a day. Every day, read some stranger’s mind, help that person with their problem. There you go. That’s your charity quota, one person at a time.”

            “Nezumi, it’s not that simple,” Shion argued.

            Nezumi tilted his head. “Look. I’m not trivializing this. I’ve got no clue what it’s like having hundreds of voices in my head and dealing with your crippling impulse to save the world. It must suck, sure. But it doesn’t have to paralyze you the way it has been.”

            “Nezumi – ”

            “Shut up, stop arguing for a second. Look over there, that table, that lady’s been sitting there staring out the window this whole time. Just look at her, read her mind, do it,” Nezumi said, pointing, and Shion wanted to argue, but for as stubborn as Nezumi complained Shion could be, Nezumi was impossibly worse.

            Shion followed Nezumi’s pointed finger, saw a woman in the opposite corner of the bakery looking out a window.

            He knew her. She frequented the bakery often. Reading her thoughts told him nothing he hadn’t known before.

            “She’s thinking about her daughter,” Shion said. “Her daughter’s just gone to her first year of university, and she misses her. The house is empty without her. The woman feels alone.”

            “Okay. Fix it.”

            “I can’t fix that,” Shion argued, looking back at Nezumi.

            _So dumb._

            “Hey!”

            “Allow me to demonstrate, feel free to take notes.”

            Nezumi got up before Shion could say anything, and Shion was left to watch Nezumi walk across the bakery.

            The bakery was almost empty now, a few people outside the woman in the corner and Shion and Nezumi themselves. No one in Shion’s line of vision if he focused on Nezumi, and he wasn’t distracted by anyone’s thoughts but Nezumi’s own.

            _Are you paying attention? Step one, charming smile and greeting._    

            “Hello, ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you.”

            Shion could hear Nezumi clearly, though he didn’t seem to be speaking louder than usual. To project his voice, Shion remembered, was natural. To act out scenes for others to watch was his job.

            The woman looked away from the window, and the shift of her thoughts was immediate.

            _Oh. Grey eyes. What a smile. Handsome._

            “I was only hoping you could tell me the time, my phone died.”

            _Step two, ask for a small favor. People eat that up. They love to feel helpful. You should know that._

            Shion almost laughed, lifted his hand to his lips.

            “Of course, it’s a quarter to eight.”

            This surprised Shion. The bakery closed at eight on week days. He hadn’t realized it was so late.

            _Step three, compliment._

            “Thank you. And I hope this isn’t strange to say, but you have a lovely smile.”

            The woman laughed in a startled way, her hand covering her lips. “Oh, um, thank you.”

            “Thanks again,” Nezumi said, walking away from her, but Shion didn’t look at him.

            He watched the woman still, looking after Nezumi, her hand leaving her lips but her smile still there.

            _Oh. He liked my smile. Do I have a nice smile? I’ve never thought of it. Maybe it is nice. I should smile more. I will smile more. Happy._

            The woman was still smiling. Bit her bottom lip. Her cheeks were pink. She covered her smile again, and Nezumi was sitting at the table, but Shion couldn’t stop looking at her, reading her thoughts, light and happy, flustered and almost giddy at such a simple thing.

            _What is she thinking?_

Shion made himself look back at Nezumi, the woman’s influx of warm thoughts leaving his mind.

            “You made her so happy. It’s incredible. A minute before she felt so alone, and now it’s like she forgot about that completely.”

            “Why are you so shocked? Haven’t you ever been complimented before? It sticks with people. And obviously she hasn’t forgotten her loneliness, but you don’t need to fix people, Shion. People aren’t yours to fix.”

            The words were not spoken harshly, but they weren’t light.

            Shion leaned back. “I know that.”

            “Do you?” Nezumi asked.

            “I don’t want to fix people.”

            “Good. Because you can’t. But you can make them happier, very easily. And that needs to be enough, or you’re going to drive yourself crazy.”

            “And you’re the expert now? You’re the one who knows everything now?” Shion demanded, felt patronized though he knew Nezumi didn’t intend him to.

            He looked away from Nezumi, back at the woman because he liked reading her thoughts. She was still thinking about Nezumi’s compliment, she was still flustered with it, her thoughts a scatter of happiness, interrupted after half a minute by Nezumi’s voice in Shion’s head.

            _I don’t know everything._

            Shion turned back to him. Nezumi’s lips were just parted, and Shion let himself look at them, think about kissing them for several seconds, allowing himself this before he focused back on Nezumi’s thought.

            “You just listened to what has been weighing down on me for years and made everything so simple.”

            “It’s not simple.”

            “You said it was,” Shion protested.

            “I know it’s not simple. You’ll still get migraines. You’ll still feel that everyone’s problems that you hear are your own. You still can’t live in the city. It’ll still be harder for you in whatever profession you choose if that profession involves interactions with people. As for feeling useless, helping one person a day might be a small solution for that. But that doesn’t change everything. That doesn’t change this.”

            “Change what?”

            Nezumi looked down at his book, face down on the table. Shion guessed that he’d brought it to read on the bus. He’d traveled four hours. Longer, by bus. Maybe five hours. He’d had to get to the station in Tokyo. He’d had to get from the station in town to the bakery, and Shion didn’t even know where the closest bus station was.

            Shion knew what needed to be changed. What wouldn’t be, even if Shion felt less useless, less restless. Even if Nezumi had opened up and offered Shion his past.

            It wasn’t enough.

            _We could do what we did before. See each other every other weekend._

            Nezumi still stared down at his book.

            Shion fought to ignore the squeeze of his chest. “There was a reason we stopped doing that.”

            Nezumi exhaled hard. He reached up. Long fingers fell into his bangs, loose.

            _I know._

            After a second –         

            _What was the reason again?_   

            Shion smiled lightly, but there was nothing to smile about. “I think it hurt too much,” he said quietly, watching Nezumi’s fingers tighten in his hair, only for a moment, hardly that.

            _Oh._

            “And we were pretending it was just sex and didn’t matter.” Shion said it in order to read Nezumi’s response, but there was only silence.

            Nezumi slipped his fingers from his hair. Looked up from his book, grey eyes steady on Shion.

            “But we were lying,” Shion added. Nearly a whisper. He cleared his throat.

            _We were lying._

Shion couldn’t ask if Nezumi was just repeating Shion’s words in his head or if he was agreeing, as his mother called him.

            “Shion?”

            Shion turned, watched his mother walk over.

            _Talking so long, could this be… Certainly not. Is it?_

            “Hey, Mom. Sorry, I got distracted,” Shion said, standing up, looking at Nezumi, watching Nezumi look at his mother.

            _Smile just like Shion’s._

“I don’t mean to interrupt, honey. I could use some help cleaning out the kitchen while I close up the front.”

            “You’re not interrupting, I didn’t realize it was so late, sorry. Um, this is Nezumi. Nezumi, my mom, Karan. I guess you met when you ordered the cinnamon bun.”

            Nezumi stood up as well, held out his hand. “Hello, Karan. It’s great to formally meet you. Shion talks about you constantly.”

            _Soft hands. That smile. Eyes like Shion’s, even though they’re brown. Kind. Warm._

            “Nezumi,” his mom repeated, too knowingly. “Do you mind if I steal my son away? You’re welcome to come to the back if you’d like, we’re closing now but I’d love you to stay. I’m sure Shion would appreciate some company cleaning up.”

            “You don’t have to clean,” Shion said, but Nezumi smiled at him.

            “I love to clean.”

            “You shouldn’t lie to my mother, you only just met her,” Shion pointed out, and Nezumi laughed.

            It was hard to argue with a laugh like that.

            In the kitchen, Nezumi walked around, taking in cookware and ingredients, a list of each running through his head while Shion wiped down the counters, cleaned out the oven, swept, did the dishes, dried them, replaced them, checked the stock of each item to make sure none needed replacing before the next morning.

            “I like your mother,” Nezumi said, as Shion contemplated his ingredients, in his head making a list of what pastries he’d bake the next morning.

            He was taking online classes for the summer term to catch up on the time he’d missed, but his schedule was flexible, entirely at his own disposal, and Shion liked to work in the bakery most days at least for a few hours in the morning even if he couldn’t fit in afternoons or nights.

            Today was an exception, Nezumi in the form of a distraction to Shion’s usual routine.

            “I know you liked my mother, I read your mind,” Shion replied.

            “I like the bakery too. It’s warm.”

            Shion touched a bag of flour, pinched the fold of its top. He liked the smell of flour. His favorite smell, he thought.

            “It must have been nice to grow up here.”

            “It was,” Shion confirmed. Took his fingers from the bag of flour. Turned from the ingredients to see Nezumi standing in front of the hooks where Shion had hung his apron.

            Nezumi was pulling lightly on the string at the apron’s waist, letting it run through his fingers before it fell free of his hand.

            “Nezumi.”

            “Hm.” Nezumi didn’t look away from the apron.

            “Do you have a bus ticket home?”

            _No._

            “Didn’t you have rehearsal today?”

            _Yes._

“You skipped it?” Nezumi constantly talked about wanting to skip rehearsal, but he never did.

            _Clearly._

            “Do you have your morning rehearsal tomorrow?”   

            _You bet._

            “Are you going to skip it?”

            Nezumi looked away from the apron. Grey eyes flickered over Shion.

            _Do you want me to?_

            “Buses out of here don’t run this late. I mean, I don’t know, I haven’t checked, but it’s a small town, I really doubt it.”

            “They don’t, I checked,” Nezumi replied. He reached up. Tucked his hair behind his ears.

            “I could drive you home.”

            “You could.”

            “I could take you to the city tonight.”

            “You could.”

            The clock on the oven said it was half past eight. “But I’d get in after midnight, and I’d get back home probably around five in the morning. I could just take you tomorrow.”

            “You could do that too.”

            “So you could sleep here,” Shion said.

            Nezumi glanced up. Grey eyes swept the kitchen ceiling. “You guys live upstairs.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Is there a spare room? A couch?”

            “No spare room or couch.”

            “Hm, tricky.”

            Shion slipped his hands in his pockets. “Nezumi. It might not be a good idea.”

            “Might not be.”

            Shion took a breath. Let it out very slowly. “I don’t think we should have sex tonight.”

            “It’s better if we don’t.”

            “I’m not kidding.”

            “I didn’t think you were.”

            Shion bit the inside of his cheek. Rolled the thick skin between his molars. Released it. “Okay. I guess you can sleep on my bed.”

            Nezumi tilted his head but said nothing.

            “Is that okay with you?” Shion prompted.

            _Yes, it’s okay._  

            Shion nodded. “Okay. We can go upstairs then, I finished cleaning.”

            _Sure._

            Shion walked towards Nezumi, then past him, led him out the kitchen, down the hall, to the staircase. Pointed out the bathroom and asked Nezumi if he wanted to shower, but Nezumi had showered that morning and so had Shion. They went to Shion’s room, where Nezumi walked around and touched everything while Shion looked for a big t-shirt to offer Nezumi for the night.

            Shion started changing into his own sleeping clothes, forgetting to ask Nezumi to turn around, remembering and wondering why he would even bother asking Nezumi to turn around, Nezumi had seen everything countless times.

            While he changed, he knew Nezumi was looking at him, could read his thoughts. And while Nezumi changed, Shion looked back at him.

            It was not even nine. Shion was not tired. He remembered he hadn’t eaten.

            “Are you hungry?” he asked Nezumi, who sat as his desk flipping through a textbook in his boxers and one of Shion’s larger t-shirts.

            “I’m okay,” Nezumi said.

            “I’m going to get something for myself, let me grab something for you. I’ll bring it up here.”

            “Don’t want me talking to your mother? Shouldn’t you tell her I’m staying the night?”

            _What does she know about us?_

            “I don’t care if you talk to my mom, and I’ll tell her when I go down that you’re staying, she’ll be fine with it,” Shion said, ignoring Nezumi’s thought and leaving before Nezumi could suggest he come downstairs as well.

            In the kitchen, Shion pressed his hands flat against the counter he’d just cleaned. Any other night he’d be studying. Reading his textbooks. Watching an online lecture. Taking notes. His heartrate completely even. His palms utterly dry.

            His mother walked in while Shion was still listening to his heart beat.

            “Hi, honey. Are you okay?”

            Shion glanced at her.

            _Cheeks are red. Fever?_

            “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I was just getting something to eat. And, um, for Nezumi too. Do you mind if he stays the night? No bus runs this late out of town, and it’s a long drive, I was thinking I’d take him back tomorrow morning.”

            “Of course he can stay.”

            _Sleeping together? Hope they’re being safe. Shion is a smart boy, but we never did discuss protection, especially if he’s with another boy –_

            Shion looked away from his mother. Felt the heat on his skin increase significantly. Infinitely. Hoped his mom wouldn’t ask if it was a fever. Hoped his mom wouldn’t say anything at all.

            “Okay. Um. I’ll just. Uh.” Shion looked around. He was standing in the kitchen. He was hungry. He was bringing food up to his room for himself and Nezumi.

            He was glad to remember this. His purpose.

            “I’ll just make sandwiches or something. Do you – Do you want a – uh – ”

            “Are you sure you’re all right, honey?” His mother had walked into the kitchen, stood in front of Shion, the back of her hand on his forehead.

            Shion breathed deeply. “Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Great.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Very sure. Really sure. I’m sure.”

            “Well. Okay, honey. Goodnight, let me know if you need anything, all right?”

            Shion nodded numbly, didn’t quite manage to raise his arms in time to return his mother’s hug, and then she was thankfully gone from the kitchen. Shion stood very still in her absence for a minute, his embarrassment settling, calming.

            There was no sliced bread for sandwiches. Nothing to put in the sandwiches. Shion remembered he didn’t often eat sandwiches. He observed the pantry. Found crackers. A jar of peanut butter. In the fridge, a bag of tangerines. Orange mesh. Seven tangerines.

            Shion grabbed the orange mesh bag of tangerines, the jar of peanut butter, a knife, the crackers, napkins, a carton of orange juice. Was upstairs when he wondered if tangerines and orange juice was too much citrus. Was in front of his room when he realized he’d forgotten plates. Was inside his room when he saw Nezumi standing by the window, braiding his hair.

            Long fingers slow, when Shion knew Nezumi could braid quickly. Nezumi turned to look at Shion while Shion hovered by the door still, thinking he could not sleep next to this man whose long fingers wove dark hair, thinking he could not be near this man who looked at him with steady grey eyes, in his head an inventory of the items Shion held.

            _Tangerines. Orange juice. Peanut butter. Crackers. Napkins. Knife._

            “Is this okay?” Shion asked. He stepped forward. Kicked the door closed behind him, his arms full. Accidentally kicked it too hard. The slam of it startled him, and he dropped the jar of peanut butter.

            Nezumi wrapped the hair tie from his wrist over the end of his braid, stepped forward and picked up the peanut butter. “Of course.”

            They sat on the floor without anywhere else to sit. There was the bed, but Shion avoided that.

            Nezumi’s mind was silent. They sat with crossed legs. Spread napkins, unfolded, in front of their legs. Backs to the bed. Shion started on a tangerine and watched Nezumi peer into the box of crackers, fidget with the rubber band over an open pack, take four crackers and place each carefully onto his napkin, two rows of two.

            He left the crackers open, the rubber band slung over his wrist where his hair tie usually was. Opened the jar of peanut butter, long fingers. Stuck the knife in, picked up a cracker, spread the peanut butter evenly.

            Shion was holding a tangerine but forgot to start peeling it.

            _You’re watching me._

            “It’s hard not to.” Shion said it without thinking about the words beforehand.

            The cracker broke in Nezumi’s hand, and his curse was soft. “Shit.”

            “I hate when that happens.” Shion broke the skin at the top of his tangerine with the nail of his thumb.

            Nezumi placed the broken cracker back on his napkin in a way where it was impossible to tell it was broken, the thinly spread peanut butter hiding the crack.

            He moved onto the second. Shion peeled his tangerine slowly, a rhythmic movement, wanting to get the entire peel off at once, produce a coil of it rather than many small pieces.

            The second cracker was successfully peanut buttered. The third cracked, another soft curse. The fourth successful.

            Nezumi closed the lid of the peanut butter. Balanced the knife on top of it.

            “I forgot cups for the orange juice,” Shion said. He’d finished peeling his tangerine and had eaten two sections of it. The smell of crisp citrus filled the room, mixed with the heavier aroma of peanut butter. Shion thought of school cafeterias. “We can drink from the carton.”

            “Okay,” Nezumi said. He lifted a cracker, the crunch it made a soft crackle between his teeth. He held one hand below his lips to catch the crumbs.

            _Stop watching me._

            “Why?”

            Nezumi looked at him. His tongue caught a crumb at the corner of his lips. “It’s creepy.”

            “Yeah? Do you feel creeped out?”

            Nezumi’s laugh was unexpected. “Sure. Yeah. I do.”

            Shion bit his lip. Released it to eat a section of his tangerine. If he was chewing he couldn’t smile.

            _Happy._

            Nezumi looked at his remaining crackers. Shion looked at the rest of his tangerine. Four sections left. He pulled one apart from the others carefully.

            _I don’t know why I came here. I know I shouldn’t have._

            The tangerine was sweet enough to enjoy but not particularly sweet comparatively to other tangerines Shion had eaten in his life. Maybe it was foolish to compare every tangerine to every other tangerine he’d ever eaten. Maybe it was better to pretend this was the first time he’d ever tasted the fruit at all.

            “Do you ever think about how I read your mind differently than everyone else’s? Do you ever think that means something?” Shion asked. He spoke to the three remaining tangerine sections in his hand. The peel was coiled on the napkin he’d spread, in one of the corners.

            _What is it supposed to mean?_

            “I don’t know. Something. Doesn’t it have to mean something? You’re different for me, Nezumi, shouldn’t that mean something?” Shion wasn’t looking at his tangerine anymore.

            Nezumi watched him carefully. Almost warily. Grey eyes moving between Shion’s like Shion was something to read, just another book, ink on pages, black on white, letters and words.

            “I don’t think it has to mean anything,” Nezumi said, finally, slowly.

            Shion had no reason to be disappointed. Reminded himself of his. Nothing would have changed no matter what Nezumi replied.

            “What if your thoughts are in my head forever? What if for the rest of our lives, I have to hear them? How am I supposed to get over you? How am I supposed to move on?”

            _Don’t get over me._

            “That’s not fair, Nezumi!” Shion took a breath, needed his voice to be even.

            “It’s not fair that you read my thoughts when I don’t want you to. When I don’t even want to think them. What does fair have to do with anything?” Nezumi said. His voice was even in the way Shion’s hadn’t been.

            The question angered Shion. He had no response to it. He didn’t want to respond to it.

            They didn’t speak more, eating quietly, Nezumi’s mind silent as well. Nezumi finished his three remaining crackers and ate four tangerines, his fingers quick on the peels though he still managed to get the entirety of each off in one coil.

            Shion ate two crackers and another tangerine after he finished his first. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but wanted to keep eating as long as Nezumi did. He ate slowly, chewed each bite longer than he usually might have.

            They shared the carton of orange juice, passing it between them. After Nezumi took the first sip, the nozzle tasted of peanut butter.

            Afterward, they cleaned up, used the bathroom, brushed their teeth. In Shion’s room again they stood beside each other, looking at Shion’s bed.    

            _I could sleep on the floor._

            “It’ll be fine,” Shion said.

            _You only have one pillow._

            “Oh, shit. Okay. You can use it.”

            “It’s your pillow.”

            “I want you to use it.”

            “Shion, just use your own pillow, I don’t need a pillow.”

            “I thought I had two.”

            “Did you lose one?”

            Shion turned to observe Nezumi’s smirk. It was not as strong as usual. “Fine. I’ll use it. Can we just – Can we just establish that we’re not having sex? We’re not having sex.”

            “We’re not having sex.”

            “I’m serious, Nezumi.”

            “Do you think you’re that irresistible?” Nezumi asked.         

            _I understand, Shion. I didn’t come here to have sex with you._

            Shion decided not to ask Nezumi why he’d come here. He had already asked that. Shion couldn’t remember Nezumi’s reply, or if he’d received a reply, but he knew he’d already asked.

            Shion stepped forward first. Didn’t have a side, slept in the middle of his bed, but picked the side farther from the door. Laid down and felt the mattress depress beside him and didn’t look at Nezumi until he was settled.

            Nezumi watched him back. Arm folded below his cheek because he didn’t have a pillow. Eyes bright in the dark room, but it didn’t feel dark. Shion’s eyes had adjusted. The light might as well have been on. Shion could see everything.

            _Goodnight._

            “Goodnight,” Shion said, but he didn’t close his eyes, waited for Nezumi to do so first and even then didn’t.

            A span of time past. Shion assigned five minutes to it, but he really had no clue.

            _Stop watching me, I can’t sleep._

            “I’m not watching you,” Shion lied.

            _Liar._

            “Do you wish you’d never met me?” The words fell out on accident. The way people had accidental thoughts, here were accidental words, just an accident, Shion couldn’t be blamed for that.

            Nezumi’s eyes opened. “It’s stupid to wish to change the past.”

            “Is that a yes?”

            “Did I say yes?” Nezumi asked.

            _Do you have to do this?_

            “I’m not doing anything.”

            “You are, you’re making this hard.”

            “It’s already hard!” Shion insisted.

            “Just go to sleep.”

            “Do you wish you’d never met me?” It wasn’t an accident this time. It was the most intentional question Shion had ever asked.    

             Nezumi sighed. Raised the arm that wasn’t under his cheek. Pushed long fingers into his bangs.

            _No._

            “It would have been easier, though.” Shion didn’t know why he was arguing. Why this wasn’t the answer he wanted.

            _No, it wouldn’t have been._

            Shion pushed himself up onto his elbow. Nezumi’s gaze followed him.

            “Of course it would have. We wouldn’t have to feel this way. Nothing would have hurt.”

            _Nothing would have hurt? Being alone wouldn’t have hurt? Not having anyone wouldn’t have hurt? Fuck you, Shion, you don’t know what hurting is, you don’t know what it is to hurt._

            Nezumi sat up, an abrupt movement. He bent his knees, pressed his elbows into them, wove a hand through his bangs and rested his forehead against the bottom of his palm. “Shit.”

            Shion sat up more slowly. His body ached. “Nezumi – ”

            “Don’t fucking say anything, Shion. You don’t get it. You have your mother. You have Safu. You have school, classmates, this bakery, this stupid small town where everyone knows everyone else. How could you understand? You in that goddamn library, you with your fascination with me – ”

            “It wasn’t fascination – ”

            “It was!” Nezumi said, and he dropped his hand from his forehead, looked up and hard at Shion. “You were fascinated. Here was a guy whose mind you could read without looking at him, how exciting, he wants to have sex with you, what a thrill, he’s pretty sexy, why not, why not have a goddamn adventure with a stranger when you’ve been sheltered and living in your safe little bubble every day of your entire life?”

            “Stop it,” Shion breathed. He wrapped his arms around himself.

            “You thought it was exciting that I wanted to fuck you. You thought it was an adrenaline rush, taking me back to your apartment. You logged every detail to tell Safu, to spill to her, your stimulating experience with that grey-eyed mystery from the library. But to me, you were just a goddamn break from every fucking day of my entire life. You were something else, and I’d never had something else, I had acting and reading and nothing else in my entire life until you, so shut the fuck up, asking me if I wish I’d never met you! Meeting you was the only thing I ever had. How the hell can you ask me that?”

            Nezumi was not quite shouting, but he was loud. Nearly shouting. His chest heaved. His fingers clutched the bedspread. Long fingers. White knuckles.

            He was angry. Pissed. Livid. Frightening, and Shion looked at him and was in love with him, narrowed eyes and the flat grey of them, the anger in them, a wet, shining anger, but Nezumi didn’t cry.

            He breathed hard. Lips still parted from his shouts. Almost shouts. Not quite shouts.

            In his mind, there were a lot of words. Hard to separate. Shion thought some of them were memories. Were shelves, books, coffee, rain, a black umbrella, sheets, a bite mark on the white skin of a neck, moans, laughter, tea, dancing in the middle of the night, toothpaste on the tip of a finger, contemplating pain med prices in the aisle of a grocery store, overcooking shrimp and starting over, buying a calendar, buying a phone, buying a second pillow, conversation, company, warmth, reading, sleeping, wishing, wishing, wishing.

            Not for anything else. Wishing for this, just this, and nothing else, never anything else.

            “I – I didn’t know,” Shion managed. He felt that he had to say something.

            “Didn’t know what? You can read my goddamn mind, you know everything.”

            Shion didn’t have to reply as there as a soft knock on his door, and then even softer – “Is everything okay?”

            Nezumi covered his eyes with his hand and cursed in a hiss of breath.

            “I’ll take care of it,” Shion said, quickly getting off the bed and going to his door, opening it only a crack.

            _Nothing else in his life until Shion –_

            Shion looked at his socks on the carpet. Wished he did not know that his mother had heard what Nezumi said.

            But how could she not have heard? Nezumi had been shouting. Nearly shouting. As good as shouting.

            “We’re fine, Mom, I’m sorry if we woke you.”

            “You don’t have to apologize, honey. I would just feel like a terrible mother if I didn’t at least check in.”

            “Really, it’s okay. I’m sor – I mean, we’re fine.”

            “Okay, as long as you’re okay.”

            Shion waited for her to kiss his forehead and walk down the hall before closing the door.

            “Sorry about that,” he said, to the closed door.

            “Why would you apologize? That’s your mother. I don’t know much about it, but isn’t that what they’re supposed to do?” Nezumi’s voice was hard.

            Shion pressed his palm flat against his door, fingers fanned. He looked at it so he wouldn’t have to look at Nezumi, even though there were not many things he loved as much as looking at Nezumi.

            Nezumi’s mind was silent.

            “I’ll go,” Nezumi said.

            “Go where?” Shion asked his hand.

            “Home, Shion.”

            “How will you get there? It’s – ” Shion peeked at his alarm clock, “almost ten. There’s not going to be a bus.”

            _Shit._

            “It’s okay if you stay here. I want you to stay here.” Shion’s words sounded familiar. Something Nezumi had told him. It had been raining. A storm taking shape against the kitchen window. His tea cooling on the counter beside Nezumi’s stove. A key in his pocket that he hadn’t wanted to give back. He still had it. Kept it inside his nightstand drawer. He didn’t anymore, but he used to take it out, hold it tight until the grooves branded his palm. After he’d replace it back, he’d watch his skin slowly forget the shallow impression.

            “I can’t stay here.”

            “Nezumi – ”

            “On your bed. In your room. I just – I need to get out of here, Shion.”

            Shion considered this. He still did not look at Nezumi. His gaze had traveled to the nightstand, his attention focused on the knob of the nightstand drawer.

            “Okay,” Shion agreed. He, too, felt a sudden anger at his own room. As if it was the reason for all of this. For everything.

            Nezumi was silent, but his thoughts slipped into Shion’s head.

            _I’ve never driven before._

            Now, Shion looked at him. Nezumi had not moved. Sat on the bed facing the foot of it, the wall where Shion’s window was. His knees were still bent, his forearms loosely propped against them.

            “A car?”

            _I never learned. I never had a car to drive. Anywhere to drive to._

            “Do you want to drive right now?” The idea was strange. Shion thought wording it, speaking it, might highlight some rationale within it. His thought was wrong.

            “It’s your car,” Nezumi said, after a full minute.

            “I’d have to be in the car with you,” Shion said slowly, not agreeing but making sure Nezumi was not entertaining this strange thought without understanding what it would mean.

            “I know.”

            “You want to drive right now?” He’d asked it before. Had to ask it again.

            “You asked that already.”

            “You didn’t answer.” Shion couldn’t remember if this were true. The entire conversation felt jumbled up. Nonsensical when he tried to recall specific moments of it, how it had even come up. How had it come up?

            “Yeah,” Nezumi said. He said it very softly. His voice was strange.

            Shion looked at him carefully. It was the only way he ever looked at Nezumi. Nezumi was not someone whose looks could be wasted with a half-glance, a sweeping gaze.

            He required focus. Attention. Concentration. A careful assessment of features.

            “Okay. Let’s go.”

            Nezumi, if he was surprised at Shion’s agreement, did not show it. He didn’t show his emotions very frequently, but Shion had still seen them. Every one of them, he thought. He wondered if there were more than he had seen. What they could be. Emotions no one else could feel, Shion was certain. Emotions only Nezumi could know.

            They put on their shoes and jeans and left Shion’s room in silence, Shion leading them down the stairs, out the bakery, having his keys with them and locking the bakery door behind them, heading to the curb.

            Nezumi walked around the car to the driver’s side. Shion unlocked the doors, and only when they were inside did he give Nezumi the keys.

            “Do you know the basics?” he asked, referring to pedals, gear shifts.

            “I don’t know anything.”

            Karan had taught Shion to drive, and Safu as well. They alternated between the driver’s seat and the back seat, Karan always sitting in the passenger’s, eternally patient, though her hands were tight around her seatbelt the first few times each of them drove.

            Shion, reading her thoughts, had felt her worry for their safety as a tangible thing inside his head. He’d driven extra carefully, slower than Safu.

            Shion felt no worry, with Nezumi in the driver’s seat. While he knew Nezumi did not know how to drive, it was a hard idea to fully grasp. Nezumi was not someone who seemed incompetent at anything. Even if the roads were not deserted in his small town at the late hour, Shion doubted he would have felt anxious.

            Shion instructed Nezumi on the fundamental things, hearing in Nezumi’s thoughts a repetition of everything he said. They sat at the curb for fifteen minutes, then buckled their seatbelts. Nezumi shifted the car into drive.

            The headlights were on. Nezumi drove from the curb slowly, his foot gentle on the pedal, and Shion said nothing until they were almost a block from the bakery and Nezumi still hadn’t sped up.

            “You can go faster,” he offered. Nezumi looked at ease, but his thoughts betrayed his concentration. An unbroken consideration of the road, the rearview mirror, his foot on the gas pedal, the possibility of other cars appearing on the deserted street, a constant sweep for stop signs or streetlights.

            Though Nezumi’s thoughts were tense, the flood of them was calming. Shion felt relaxed. Warm. Was relieved that Nezumi had asked to drive so unexpectedly.

            “Why did you want to drive?” Shion asked, when Nezumi had been driving for fifteen minutes. Shion pointed out roads for him to take so Nezumi could practice turning; the flick of his turn signal, the satisfaction Nezumi got from flicking it that Shion heard in his head.

            “I don’t know,” Nezumi said.

            “It was an unexpected request.”

            “I just wanted to drive.” But interrupting Nezumi’s thoughts of the road stretching in front of him –

            _Control. Wanted control, a choice over where I’m going._

            Shion looked out the window, watched the night slip slowly by, almost as if in slow-motion. Almost as if they were completely stationary and the Earth rotated beneath them.

            Nezumi could not drive wherever he wanted. He followed Shion’s points and didn’t know these streets nor any streets to lead where he might have wanted to go. But Shion did not point out the inaccuracy of Nezumi’s thoughts. Didn’t know if Nezumi’s thoughts had been accidental, and if they had been, Shion wanted to allow them to remain unsaid.

            They continued in a silence Shion didn’t mind. The windows were cracked, summer night air floating in, and only when the wind of it picked up did Shion realize Nezumi was driving faster.

            Shion glanced at the speedometer. The red arrow steadily turned like the second hand of a clock.

            “Nezumi.”

            “What?”

            “It’s a small town. The speed limits are slower here.”

            “No one’s out.”

            “Nezumi, slow down.”

            The speedometer’s arrow passed 45. 50. 55. 60.

            “Nezumi.”

            “What do you think will happen?” Nezumi was completely calm.

             65. 70.

            “What does that mean?” Shion glanced out the dashboard. Checked that the road was still clear. It looked like it was being swallowed by the front of Shion’s car.

            75. 77. 80.

            _Do you think I’ll crash? Do you think we’ll die?_

            “Nezumi. Stop, I’m serious, stop.”

            85. 86. 87.

            There was a stop sign and Nezumi ran through it.

            _Do you think I’d hurt you, Shion? Do you think I’d put your life in danger?_

            Shion fought not to panic. There was no reason to. He didn’t think Nezumi would hurt him. He didn’t think Nezumi would put his life in danger. He didn’t think Nezumi would crash even though this was his first time driving.

            He trusted Nezumi. He trusted Nezumi with his life, with everything he had.

            92. 93. 94.

            The wind was loud in his ears. A sharp whistling. The engine a rush. The road beneath the wheels both audible and tangible.

            Shion decided to be reasonable. “What do you want me to say, Nezumi? What can I say that will make you slow down?”

            _Shut up, Shion._

            “Nezumi, please slow down. Please.”

            _Stop talking._

            99. 100. 101.

            “Do you want me to apologize?” Panic fell into his voice even though Shion knew he had no reason to panic. Fear shook his words even though he was not scared. “Do you want me to tell you I’m sorry? I am sorry, Nezumi, I am sorry.”          

            _Are you scared?_

            The answer was no. “Yes,” Shion breathed. His fingers clutched the seat. “Please stop.”

            102. 103. 103. 102. 101. 100. 99. 97. 93. 88. 84.

            Shion exhaled hard, watched the speedometer’s arrow fall, keep falling, not stopping until the car was stopped altogether.

            Nezumi had pulled over at the side of the road. His knuckles were white, hands still around the wheel. His mind was blank.

            Shion looked away from him. Stared out the dashboard at the streaks made by the headlights. His heart raced. It filled up the car. He knew Nezumi could hear it. He knew it shook the seats, it pounded the wheel Nezumi still clutched.

            “Do you know where we are?” According to the clock on the dashboard, Nezumi let five minutes pass before he asked this.

            Shion glanced out his side window. Then out the front, really looking instead of just catching his breath. “No.”

            Neither of them had their phones.

            “You could just turn around, drive straight, we’ll have to end up back in town,” Shion said.

            “I don’t want to drive.”

            “Okay. I’ll drive.”

            “You should yell at me.”

            Shion stared at Nezumi, who stared straight ahead. “Why?”

            “I just put your life in danger.”

            “It wasn’t in danger.”

            “Yes, it was.”

            “I knew I was safe,” Shion argued. He didn’t know why he was arguing. Nezumi’s driving had been reckless.

            “You were terrified.”

            “I wasn’t.”

            “Liar.” In an abrupt movement, Nezumi unbuckled his seatbelt and slammed out of the car, shutting the door loudly.

            Shion sat numbly, then followed suit. Outside the car, he saw Nezumi standing beside the driver’s door, his back to Shion, his arm raised, bent, hand in his hair.

            _I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know why I’m here._

“It’s okay, Nezumi.”

            _How is it okay?_

             Shion knew Nezumi was not thinking about the driving. Shion looked up at the night sky. There were stars there, the way there weren’t in the city.

            “Maybe we just need more time. It’s only been a year and eight months. That’s not that long. People take longer to get over break-ups.” Saying the word _break-ups_ startled Shion even though he was the one speaking. He knew it was true, but it still felt odd to say aloud, to assign _break-ups_ to what had happened between him and Nezumi.

            “I’m not getting over a break-up,” Nezumi said.

            “Nezumi – ”

            Nezumi turned to look at him. Hand falling from his hair to his side. “You’re not a relationship to me, Shion. You’re – ” He shook his head. Hand back in his hair as if it never left. Fingers in a tight grip, as if to prevent any more slipping out.

            _I didn’t have anything, and then I had you, and now – Shit. Shit. Don’t read my thoughts, just don’t, okay? Shit, Shion, can you just fucking stop?_

            “I can’t stop.”

            _Fuck you, do you think I don’t know that?_

            Shion gripped his t-shirt at the sides of his waist, arms crossed. “What if – What if we tried to make it work? I drive to the city every other weekend like before, you take a bus down here the weekends I’m not coming to you.” As he said it, Shion knew it couldn’t happen. Nezumi didn’t have that kind of money.

            Nezumi didn’t say anything, and then –

            _How bad do your migraines get in the city?_

            Shion looked down at his arms, crossed over the flat of his stomach. “Really bad, Nezumi.”

            _Unbearable?_   

            “That’s why I’d come to the city hours before you got out of your shows. To give myself time to take meds, to sleep off the pain, to let it dull down before you saw me. I didn’t want you to know that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want you to know how sometimes it felt hard to stay standing.” Shion admitted this quietly. He could hear the hurt it caused in Nezumi’s thoughts and wished he hadn’t admitted it at all.

            _I never knew that. You should have told me that. Shion – You should have told me that. Shit._

            “It’s okay. It was worth it.”

            Shion listened to Nezumi’s curse. Didn’t look at him.

            “Okay. Okay, well I can leave the theater in a year,” Nezumi finally said.

            Shion shook his head. He was looking at his car now, the closed passenger side door. “No. I won’t let you do that. You love acting. I don’t want you to do that.”

            “Then what do you want?”

            Shion tried to think. His head felt thick. He felt so tired. “Maybe – There are towns closer to the city, towns an hour outside. I could move closer. You could save up once your debt is paid off, get a car, commute. Use my car in the meantime, I’ll teach you how to drive for real. Commuting will be hard for your night shows, since they end so late, but…” Shion trailed off. He was looking at Nezumi now, who watched him back.

            _That could work._

            “Nezumi, it’d be difficult. It would drain you and take a toll on you and be more work than it’s worth.”

            Nezumi looked at Shion for a solid moment, until Shion didn’t think he was going to say anything, and then he did. “I don’t care about sex, Shion. That’s not why – That isn’t – ”

            _Lonely. Alone. No one, until you._

            Nezumi looked away from him. Shion could see in his profile the hard clench of his jaw, the way it slightly distorted the familiar line Shion knew so well.

            Shion almost said that he was not the only person in the world Nezumi could have in his life. That there were other people whom he could be with without him having to sacrifice anything.           

            Shion didn’t say it. To even think it made his chest hurt. Made him angry, on his own behalf, on Nezumi’s.

            How could he suggest that? How could _someone else_ be their solution?

            Shion heard Nezumi’s sigh, long, heavy.

            “It’s late. We don’t know how far we are from the bakery. Let’s go back.”

            Shion didn’t argue. He didn’t tell Nezumi that they should figure this out. He didn’t ask Nezumi if he would go back to the city the next day, if that would be it, if they’d let another span of time fall between them before one of them tried again – if either of them would even try again.

            He walked around the car, and Nezumi passed him silently as he walked to the passenger side. Shion put the car back in drive and he turned around. He drove straight, not knowing where he was, only hoping he was heading home.

            Beside him, Nezumi looked out the side window. He thought of only one thing, for only one moment, his voice fleeting in Shion’s mind but lasting long enough for Shion to detect the wonder in his tone.

            _Have there always been so many stars?_

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quoted book in this chapter:
> 
> The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett


	6. Chapter 6

When Nezumi fell asleep, Shion laid awake still.

            In slow motions over the next hour, Shion peering every so often from the spill of Nezumi’s dark hair and his closed eyelids to the alarm clock on his nightstand, Nezumi curled himself closer to Shion. By half past one, Nezumi’s chest, coated in only a thin layer of t-shirt, fell right against Shion’s arm. His heartbeat was steady, a deep reverberating pump. When Shion closed his eyes he could see it, the heart itself, the very organ. Ascending aorta, pulmonary trunk. Right atrium, inferior vena cava. Left ventricle, aortic arch.

            It took another half hour for Shion to move himself. Shift down, small increments. Not disturbing Nezumi, who only gathered closer with each of Shion’s movements. By the time Nezumi’s arm wound over Shion’s waist, by the time long fingers grasped in unconsciousness around Shion’s shirt, by the time two of Nezumi’s fingers fell beneath the hem of it to touch Shion’s skin, by the time Nezumi’s forehead pressed right against Shion’s shoulder, Shion was able to tuck his own chin and touch his lips to the dark of Nezumi’s hair. The bangs where Nezumi’s fingers so often tightened, knuckles whitening.

            Nezumi’s breath melted the fabric of Shion’s shirt. Burned his skin. Musings of what shape this burn might take flitted through Shion’s head. He would trace his fingertip over the burn. Feel the sear of it, the tenderness, just the way the red lines on his hand from the cinnamon bun pan still pinched every so often, just when he’d forgotten them.

            At a quarter past two, Shion raised the hand with the shallow burns. He touched Nezumi’s hair, tucked it behind Nezumi’s ear. In Nezumi’s mind there was nothing, but soon, Shion knew, his nightmare would start, and Shion would read it, experience it alongside him whether he was awake still or asleep by then.

            Shion waited for it without fear. He felt nothing, in that moment, but the thuds of Nezumi’s heartbeat, persistent as thunder.

*

Despite not falling asleep until near three in the morning and then waking again around four in the fits of Nezumi’s nightmare, Shion woke as he always did at half past five, an automatic waking, a glimpse at his alarm clock confirming the internal clock of his body – 5:33.

            Nezumi was not awake. He slept loosely, strewn and splayed, lips parted and exhales whistling.

            Shion left him where he lay. Took a shower in cold water. Shivered when he stepped out, dressed in his room with the lights off, Nezumi motionless on the bed.

            Tore a paper from the notebook he used for his course on long-term injury recovery, scribbled a quick note for Nezumi, left it on the nightstand and did not let himself look at Nezumi for more than a minute before he went downstairs.

            Shion flicked on the lights in the kitchen. Pulled out flour, sugar, sifters, mixing bowls, rolling pins, spoons, spreaders, cinnamon, salt, vanilla extract, blocks of chocolate, butter, milk, condensed milk, heavy cream, light cream. Set everything on the counter where he always set them. Began baking, the steps settled movements of his body, not requiring thought.

            At half past eight, Nezumi appeared in the kitchen doorway, took an apron from a hook as he said good morning, stood beside Shion who could feel the sleep slipping off him, a radiating warmth, a rustling slowness, a muted softness. In his thoughts, voice heavy –

            _Can I help?_

            And so Shion instructed Nezumi, stood beside him and allowed him to measure, to pour, to mix, to roll, to pat, to coat, to drizzle, to sprinkle, to taste.

            Flour collected in Nezumi’s hair. Icing dripped on the back of his forearm, along the thin hairs. Cinnamon smudged his cheek when he lifted his hand to rub at it.

            He was so beautiful Shion could not look at him. Peeked only at his hands. Long fingers pinching salt. Knuckles kneading dough. Fingertips catching icing, sneaking it between his lips.

            When they kissed, it was in front of the oven. The light was on inside of it. Nezumi had wanted to make cinnamon buns, and while Shion didn’t usually bake the same specialty items two days in a row, he was not the one baking today.

            The timer was on for one minute, to allow the icing to melt just so, just to dip into the swirls, just to drip in quick lines down the sides. Shion stood beside Nezumi and they looked at the icing melt. Nezumi’s knuckles touched Shion’s knuckles. Nezumi’s lips touched Shion’s lips. Shion didn’t know who was the kisser and who was being kissed, but he didn’t mind either way.

            The lips were soft either way. Sugary. Icing in the corner. Sweet. Nezumi opened his lips first, but only just so. They did not kiss desperately. They did not kiss with one year and eight months between them.

            They kissed as if it was the early morning. They were tired. They were exhausted. They loved each other so much it felt like a lie to even say the words. It didn’t feel like love. Maybe it was something else. Maybe there was not a name for it yet.

            The timer went off. Nezumi’s fingers touched Shion’s cheek. Shion closed his eyes.

            In the oven, icing liquefied.

*

Shion drove Nezumi to the bus station, and they looked at the schedule of buses to the city.

            There was not a bus to the city for two days.

            _There has to be hotels in this town._

            “I could drive you.”

            “It’s a long drive. Both ways? That’s eight hours, and it’s already past noon.”

            They’d lost track of time in the bakery kitchen.

            “I’d get back home at nine at the latest. That’s not late.”

            “Shion, I’m not going to have you drive eight hours in a day.”

            “People do that all the time. I don’t mind. It’s not that bad.”

            _I’ll stay at a hotel._

            “If you’re staying, you’ll stay at my place.”

            _That’s not a good idea._

            “I’ll just drive you today. Don’t argue, Nezumi. If we leave now I’ll be back by eight-thirty. Come on.”     

            Back in the car, Nezumi freed his hair from its braid and began braiding it again.

            His thoughts were scattered.

            _Don’t want to go. Ask him to spend the night. Don’t. Terrible idea. What happens now? Is this it? Four hour drive. Four hours in the car with him. Want to kiss him. Shouldn’t have kissed him. Tasted like icing. Kiss him again. Shit._

            Shion tried turning on the radio, but Nezumi did not seem to notice. Shion turned it off after two songs and figured he could incite a conversation, interrupt Nezumi’s thoughts that way.

            He watched the road absently, sifting through topics for harmless conversation.

            “Are you going to get in trouble for skipping rehearsal today and yesterday?”

            Nezumi’s thoughts stopped abruptly. “What?”

            Shion knew Nezumi had been distracted, did not mind repeating the question. “You skipped rehearsal today and yesterday. Will you get in trouble for that?”

            “How would I get in trouble?”

            “I don’t know.”

             “Like what, a detention?”

             “I said I didn’t know.”

            “They’re not going to fire me.”

            “But you can’t just skip rehearsal.”

            “It’s two days, I’ve never skipped rehearsal before.”

            “But did you even give them notice? Aren’t you the lead? Don’t they need you there to practice all of the scenes?”

            “Someone would have stood in for me. The director. They would have been fine.”

            “So you’re saying you can just skip rehearsal without any consequences whenever you want? That doesn’t make sense.” Shion slowed, the streetlight yellow. He could have kept going. The car in the lane beside his kept going.

            “Did I say that? I didn’t say that, I can’t skip any rehearsal, I just skipped two, that’s not a big deal, Shion.”

            Shion had a feeling they were arguing. He wasn’t sure why.

            “Okay, never mind, forget it.”

            “What, are you pissed at me for skipping rehearsal? Why do you even care?” Nezumi asked. There was a bitterness to his voice.

            “I don’t care!”

            “You sound like you care.”

            “Well, I don’t care, you’re interpreting my tone wrong.”

            “Am I? How should I interpret it then?” Nezumi demanded.

            “Nezumi, can we just drop it?” Shion asked loudly.

            They were silent again, but at least Nezumi’s mind was silent as well. It was a deliberate silence Shion could feel, like something muffled in his mind.

            He turned back on the radio.

*

Nezumi fell asleep an hour into the ride. This was a relief. Shion relaxed. While he was relaxed, he came to an easy resolution.

            When Nezumi woke, if he woke before they arrived at his apartment, Shion would ask him to read from the book he’d brought. Shion was proud of himself for this solution. He wished he’d thought of it before.

            Nezumi did not wake until they were in the city. Shion was trying to avoid looking at too many people as he drove – other drivers, people on the sidewalk, people running across the street, delivery men on bicycles with bags of food in baskets over the handlebars of their bikes, weaving through traffic.

            It was difficult not to look at people, but it was a difficulty Shion was used to. He was distracted by his own concentration, and didn’t notice Nezumi had woken until he spoke.

            “Is it hard to drive in this?”

            Shion glanced at him, a brief relief from the voices in his head that were back when someone beeped at him. He turned back to the road. “It’s okay.”

            “Do you have a headache?”

            “I took Advil while you were sleeping.”

            “You still have a headache though.”

            “It’s fine, it’s bearable. It happens.”

            Nezumi didn’t say anything for another few minutes, then – “Would it help if I read?”

            “No, I need to concentrate.” Shion paused. “Thanks, though.”

            “Why can you read minds?”

            Shion didn’t understand the question. He thought maybe he hadn’t heard it right, over the voices of everyone else. “Sorry, what?”

            “You weren’t born like this, right?”

            “No. I was sixteen.”

            “Just out of the blue? You turned sixteen and could read minds?”

            “Yes.”

            “Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

            Shion leaned forward in his seat. He’d turned off the radio on entering the city in order to focus. “Do you expect me to have an explanation? I don’t have an explanation. There’s no reason for it.”

            “What if it goes away?”

            The driver in front of Shion was cheating on his wife. Shion tried not to look at him. “What if what goes away?”

            “Your mind reading. It just happened to you suddenly, what if it went away suddenly?”

            “Why would it go away suddenly?”

            “Shion, I don’t know, I’m just saying it’s possible. Do you think it’s possible?”

            The affair was with a girl from the gym. Her hair in a ponytail. Breasts bouncing as she ran on the treadmill. Sweat dripped down cleavage. Smooth, long legs. Hands running up those legs. Fingernails digging into thighs soft as dough. She was loud during sex. Liked when he pounded her from behind. Screamed his name and – _More! More! Yeah, yeah…_

            Shion was honked loudly as he swerved into another lane, and there was Nezumi’s hand on the wheel, jerking it back.

            “Shit, Shion, what the fuck?”

            “Sorry, I’m sorry.” Shion gripped the wheel with sweating palms. He was hard. He curled his toes in his shoes and looked at other drivers, searching for calmer thoughts.

            “What happened?”

            “Nothing, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

            “I’m fine. Your cheeks are pink.”      

            “It’s nothing.”

            “Shion.”

            “What?”

            “What did you just mind read?”

            “Nothing.”

            “Shion.”

            “What, Nezumi?”

            _You’ve got a hard-on._

            “Why are you looking at it?” Shion demanded.

            “Why have you got it?”

            “Why do you think? The guy in front of us is thinking about having sex and turning himself on, that means I get turned on, it’s not like I want to, it’s not like I’m even attracted to the girl he’s thinking about, it just happens, it has nothing to do with me, it’s his thoughts, it’s his feelings,” Shion snapped.

            “Okay, okay.”

            _He’s upset._

            “I’m not upset.”

            “Why didn’t you just look away from him?”

            “Can you shut up, Nezumi? I get sucked in, I forget to look away, I forget that I’m not them and that these thoughts aren’t my thoughts and that I’m not the one actually thinking them, it’s not easy, okay, you don’t know anything about it, can you shut up?” Shion was holding the steering wheel so hard his hands started to hurt, tired from the exertion of their grip.

            Nezumi shut up, but his mind didn’t.

            _You’re overwhelmed. It’s the city. Every time you drove into the city this is what you felt. You never told me that._

            “You didn’t need to know.”

            “Of course I did.”

            “You didn’t tell me anything about you. Your past. Your debt. Your childhood. Your family. We didn’t tell each other things, it wasn’t just me, we both didn’t, that’s what we wanted.”

            _I don’t want that anymore._

            Shion chose not to reply. He was getting pissed off, and it wasn’t Nezumi’s fault. It was the thoughts, so many thoughts, people caught in traffic, everyone angry, everyone fed up, everyone wanting to go somewhere, everyone unable to go where they wanted, at least not fast enough, at least not easily enough.

            Shion read all of the road rage. The frustration building right up inside his head, mixing with his own thoughts until it was his own thoughts. He was the impatient driver late for a meeting. He was the woman in the passenger seat who had to pee. He was the kid in the backseat bored. He was the teenager carsick from reading. He was the baby, starving and crying, he was the rest of the family, annoyed by the crying, headaches from the crying on top of his own headaches. He was the man fantasizing about the girl from the gym, fucking her from behind, her hands tight on the sheets, her shouts loud, he was so turned on, he was so hot.

            _Shion._

            “Shut up, Nezumi.” Shion’s teeth were clenched.

            _I didn’t say anything._

            Shion wanted to close his eyes.

            “I can drive.”

            “You can’t drive.”

            “You taught me how to drive.”

            “Can you stop talking? I’m serious, I’m going to start yelling at you and it’s not your fault, but I need you to stop talking.”

            They were locked in place. It was rush hour. Shion hadn’t taken this into account.

            It was just past five in the afternoon. They’d hit traffic driving in. They were gridlocked in the web of everyone trying to go home from work. Shion had only ever driven to the city on Saturdays – busy enough, but not like a Wednesday at just past five in the afternoon.

            Shion’s head throbbed in a tangible way. He felt like his brain was going to start leaking out. He wanted to press on his temples, hard. The sun struck the window with determination. He squinted in it.

            “Just pull over.”

            Shion ground his molars together. It didn’t help the headache. He felt almost nauseous with it. It took everything he had not to close his eyes and keep them closed.

            _Shion, just pull over. I’ll walk from here. Pull over._

            He wanted to cry and felt embarrassed for that. He’d been dealing with this for years. He knew how to deal with it. Not in traffic on a weekday at just past five in the city, but he could do it, it was fine.

            His head was going to split open. He was fine. Thoughts battered him. He was fine. The sun was sharp and grating. He was fine.

            _You look like you’re going to pass out._

            “I’m fine.” Shion pressed the gas too hard as the traffic inched steadily. They lurched forward, and Shion slammed the breaks, his seatbelt digging hard into his chest, his breath falling from his lips as if he’d been punched.

            _Ow, shit._

            “Are you okay?”

            “Are _you_ okay?” Nezumi asked back. He sounded angry, but he had no reason to be. He didn’t have everyone’s anger battling for room in his head.

            They inched forward for five more minutes. Shion knew he was breathing hard. He was certain he would pass out. He clenched and unclenched his hands on the steering wheel, willing himself not to.

            “Shion. Listen to me. Pull over. I’m asking you to pull over.”

            “We’re almost there.”

            “We’re not almost there.”

            “We’re four blocks away.”

            “I’m capable of walking four blocks. It’ll take another half hour to drive four blocks. I’m going to get out of the car whether you pull over or not. It’d just be safer if you pulled over.”

            “How am I supposed to pull over, we’re in the wrong lane, do you think I can squeeze into that lane, do you see space for this car in those three inches between that truck’s bumper and that other car’s hood? Even if you get out of the car, I’m stuck here, so shut up, Nezumi, and let me drive you the rest of the way home. Just shut up, I have enough voices in my head, I don’t need yours too.”

            _Even if I shut up, you’ll still hear my thoughts._

“Then stop thinking!” Shion shouted loudly. His head throbbed from the volume of it. He was going to be sick.

            Nezumi stopped thinking.

            A block from the parking garage – Shion knew they wouldn’t find parking in front of Nezumi’s building, and the parking garage was a block closer – Shion started seeing spots. This hadn’t happened since he was sixteen, the first few weeks he could read minds. He hadn’t been used to it. The migraines set in by noon every day at school. He would lock himself in the school bathroom and cry from the pain of it.

            In the parking garage, Shion unbuckled his seatbelt and lurched over, head between his knees, cramped by the wheel. He pressed his hands to his head. He didn’t care that Nezumi was beside him. He heard Nezumi’s worry and didn’t care about it, only that it was there and Shion needed silence.

            “Please stop thinking,” he whispered, and it took another minute, but Nezumi did.

            Shion didn’t move. When he closed his eyes, he felt as though he could feel his brain moving. Throbbing, pounding, pulsing. The pain shifted from one side of his head to the other, a traveling thing. He felt dizzy. His head between his knees helped with the nausea, though it took a few minutes. The spots kept flitting in front of his eyes, different colors. Shion watched them, his eyes closed.

            He was waiting to pass out. He was almost certain it would happen. He sat crouched over and waited for it all to go away.

            _Shion._

            Shion didn’t respond. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to move.

            _Let’s go to my place. You should lie down._

            The pulsing was not subsiding. Shion pressed against his head until it hurt from his hands too. He worried about crushing his own skull. He knew he was not that strong, but he worried even so. Desperation made the human body capable of inconceivable feats of strength.

            _You’ve been sitting like that for fifteen minutes. I’ll help you, let’s go._

            “Stop thinking.”

            “Come on, Shion. The car is stuffy, this isn’t going to help. And you can’t just start driving again for another four hours, you need to rest. Just come to my apartment.”

            “I don’t want to move.”

            “I’ll help you.”

            Shion resumed not responding.

            Sometime after that, he heard Nezumi getting out of the car. His own car door opened quickly after. There was Nezumi’s hand on his shoulder. Strong. Long fingers.

            “Come on, sit up.”

            “No.”

            “Shion.”

            Shion didn’t move, but Nezumi did. Hands shifting on his shoulders, grip tightening, pulling Shion up. A wave of pain rushed through Shion’s head, left to right, front to back.

            Shion groaned.

            _Shit, he’s gonna pass out._

            “Don’t,” Shion moaned.

            “Sorry, sorry, I’m trying not to think. Okay, come on, let’s move slowly.”

            “I can’t.”

            Nezumi didn’t listen. Pulled Shion up under his arms, out of the car. Shion was aware that he’d been sweating, his underarms wet, the fabric of his t-shirt wet.

            He didn’t care. Nezumi had touched his sweat before. Tasted his sweat before. Licked his sweat before.

            Standing, Shion wanted to fall to his knees. He was so tired. His head hurt so much. He pressed his hands to his eyes. They burned. Nezumi’s arm was around his waist.

            “Are you okay?”

            “No.”

            “Close your eyes.”

            Shion’s eyes were already closed. Palms pressed to his eyelids.

            “Keep them closed. I’m going to lead you to my place. It’s just a block away.”

            Shion didn’t argue. He doubted Nezumi would care if he argued. He didn’t have the energy to argue.         

            He dropped his hands from his eyes, and Nezumi took one of them. Weaved their fingers, interlocking.

            Nezumi pulled him slowly. Talked to him quietly, in words Shion didn’t bother to try and make out. Outside the parking garage was loud. Shion instinctively stepped closer to Nezumi. Nezumi squeezed his hand.

            In Nezumi’s apartment, it was hot. Nezumi didn’t have air conditioning.

            “Do you want to shower? In cold water?”

            “No.”

            Nezumi led Shion to the bed, and Shion laid down. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. He didn’t care to.

            Nezumi undressed him, his shoes, his jeans, his t-shirt. Left his boxers. Touched Shion’s forehead.

            _Clammy. Hot._

            “Can I use your phone?”

            Shion didn’t care what Nezumi did. “I don’t care.”

            It was only a minute or so later that Shion thought Nezumi might have been trying to contact his mother, which was the last thing he wanted.

            He sat up too suddenly, head pounding. His eyes were open. Nezumi sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over Shion’s phone.

            “What’re you doing?”

            “Looking up migraines on the internet.”

            Nezumi’s phone did not have internet. Shion laid back down.

            Hardly seconds later, Shion read Nezumi’s thoughts.

            _Moderate to severe pain (often described as pounding, throbbing pain) that can affect the whole head, or can shift from one side of the head to the other. Sensitivity to light, noise, or odors._

            Shion recognized the list immediately. He and Safu had read the same thing when he was sixteen. Shion lying on his bed underneath his blanket. Safu lying beside him, over the blanket, rubbing Shion’s back and reading softly.

            _Blurred vision. Nausea or vomiting, stomach upset, abdominal pain. Loss of appetite. Sensations of being very warm or cold. Paleness. Fatigue. Dizziness. Fever (rare). Bright flashing dots or lights, blind spots, wavy or jagged lines (aura)._

            Shion did not ask Nezumi to stop reading. He felt marginally better, lying down. Better enough that Nezumi’s voice was okay, in his head. Calming.

            _Migraines & Headaches Guide. Overview & Facts. Types & Complications. Treatment & Prevention. Treatment…_

            Shion raised his hand, pressed the palm of it hard to his forehead. He was thirsty.

            _How to prevent migraine headaches. Migraine medications: Information you need. Headache medications: Tips on taking them. Headache nausea medications. Other drugs to treat frequent headaches. Alternative treatments. TLC for headache relief. What the hell is TLC?_

            “Nezumi?”

            “Hm?”

            “Can you get me a glass of water?”

            “Yeah, one second.” Nezumi’s weight left the mattress. Shion peeked into the room. The lights were still off. Nezumi was looking down at Shion’s phone as he walked into the kitchen. Shion closed his eyes.

            _Tips to manage your migraines. Follow your migraine treatment plan. Relieve emotional stress. Lower physical stress. Exercise regularly. Keep a routine. Quit smoking – Are you kidding me? This is bullshit, none of this has anything to do with Shion._

            “Shion.”

            Shion opened his eyes. Took the glass of water offered by long fingers. Propped himself up to drink it. “Is WebMD being helpful?” he asked. Nezumi took the empty glass from him.

            “No, it’s not. Shouldn’t there be a page on what to do? Like, apply ice to your temples or something?”

            “There is a page like that.”

            “I can’t find it.”

            “It’s a slideshow, I’ve read it before. I think they list eleven things you can do after you get a headache.” Shion laid back down. Closed his eyes again.

            _Looks less pale. Sounds less shaky. Still looks exhausted._

            “Did you do the eleven things?”

            “Some of them.”

            “Do they work?”

            “Some of them.”

            Nezumi didn’t say anything else.

            _Did this happen every single time you drove to see me?_         

            “Not every time,” Shion said quietly. “Not this bad. It wasn’t ever rush hour on a weekday. And I hardly slept last night. It’s just a combination of things.”

            _I never knew it was this bad._

            “It wasn’t. It’s not.”   

            _Liar._

            Nezumi thought the word softly. His fingers were cool in Shion’s hair. Shion shifted closer to this touch, cheek sliding on the pillow. Nezumi’s second pillow. It had appeared on Nezumi’s mattress a month after they started having sex. Neither one of them had said anything about it.

            Even then, they’d pretended it was just sex. Even then, they’d pretended it wasn’t real.

            “You can lie down,” Shion said. It wasn’t permission. It was a request.

            The bed shifted with Nezumi’s weight. Gentle protests of bed springs that could be louder, that had been louder. Shion liked the sound of the bed springs when they fucked. A volume to their passion. An amplification of their lust. Proof, as if their touches were not enough.

            _Can I touch you?_

“Yes.” Shion whispered. Nezumi came closer. Touched Shion’s waist like he was a fragile thing. Nezumi’s entire body pressed against Shion’s.

            Shion’s head pounded on, but less so. He turned into Nezumi’s chest and exhaled hard into Nezumi’s t-shirt.

            They didn’t move after that. Laid against each other. Long fingers on the skin of Shion’s waist, not moving. Resting.

            _You can’t visit me here anymore._

            Nezumi thought this as if Shion was still visiting him. As if a year and eight months hadn’t existed at all. No rain against the kitchen window. No tea cooling on the side of the stove. No flower in Nezumi’s hair. No door left open as Nezumi kissed Shion, faintly, hardly a kiss at all, maybe it hadn’t been.

            “I don’t visit you here anymore,” Shion reminded him. His lips moved against Nezumi’s t-shirt. Thin fabric.

            _Oh. Yeah. I forgot._

            Nezumi either didn’t think anything after that, or he suppressed his thoughts.

            Shion had a feeling it was the latter. It didn’t matter. In a few minutes, Shion fell asleep.

*

Shion woke to the smell of New Year’s Eve.

            He laid in confusion, blinking at the ceiling. New Year’s Eve didn’t have a smell. He realized it smelled like shrimp and garlic and parmesan. The meal Nezumi had made on New Year’s Eve.

            It was satisfying to clear that up, but he was quickly confused again. Why would it smell like the meal Nezumi had made on New Year’s Eve?           

            Shion sat up. He was in Nezumi’s apartment. Wore only his boxers. His clothes were folded by the side of the bed, and Shion got up slowly, warily, but his head did not throb. He dressed, used the bathroom, and went to Nezumi in the kitchen.       

            “What’s going on?” he asked blearily. The microwave said it was a few minutes past nine. Shion could tell from the darkness framed by the window that it was night, not morning.

            “Got some ingredients while you were passed out. This is the only thing I know how to make, sorry.”

            Shion didn’t know why Nezumi was apologizing. Shion liked parmesan risotto and roasted shrimp. It was his favorite food. It was the best meal he’d ever had.

            “Oh, shit, I have to call my mom,” Shion said, looking around for his phone.

            “I already did.”

            “You called my mom?”

            “How are you feeling?” Nezumi was peering carefully at Shion, who stared back.   

            “You called my mom?”          

            “Yeah, and I told her we fucked each other senseless. Why are you so worried?”

            “What did you really say to her?”

            Nezumi sighed loudly. “I asked her if it was all right if you spent the night. She said it was perfectly fine and to use protection.”   

            “She didn’t say that.”

            “I could tell she wanted to.” Nezumi smiled a sly smile.

            Shion crossed his arms. “Didn’t she want to know why you were calling and not me? You could have murdered me or something.”

            “Yes, I think that was her first thought.”        

            “Nezumi.”

            “I told her you were in the shower.”

            “You told her I was in your shower? Are you insane?”

            Nezumi gave him a dry glance before looking into the pot of rice. He stirred it lazily. “I’m sure your mother is aware that you take showers every now and then.” 

            “Not at your house! She’ll think we had sex.”

            Nezumi rested the spoon against the side of the pot. “Doesn’t she know we have sex?”

            “You think I tell my mother who I have sex with?” Shion asked, incredulous, and Nezumi glanced at him.

            _Who do you have sex with?_

            Nezumi looked away quickly.

            “I mean – I meant – You know – You. Do you think I tell my mother I have sex with _you_ ,” Shion said quickly.

            “I don’t care if you had sex with other people.” Nezumi spoke quietly.

            “We broke up. We weren’t together.”

            “Obviously.”

            “We aren’t together,” Shion amended.

            “I know that, Shion, I said I didn’t care.”

            “It’s okay if you care. I mean, it’s understandable, you don’t have to be embarrassed or, you know, whatever.” Shion felt as if he was rambling. His hand was moving in a vague, senseless way. He stuffed it in his pocket.

            “You should stop talking, you’re rambling.” 

            Shion watched Nezumi taste the rice.

            _Not done yet._

            Shion touched the side of the counter, traced a line down it. “Why did you tell her I was going to stay the night? I could go home now. I feel better. The roads are emptier at nights.”

            “I didn’t know you were going to wake up.”

            “Then why are you cooking?”

            Nezumi stopped prodding the shrimp in the sauté pan with the spoon he held and stared down at it. “Can you not be difficult?”    

            “I’m not being difficult.”

            “You are. You always are. If you want to leave, leave, I’m not locking you up here, Shion.”

            “I don’t want to leave, I was just asking a question.”

            “You’re interrogating me for letting your mother know you aren’t dead.”

            “I’m not interrogating you.”

            “I don’t think you should drive right now. You think you feel better but maybe you should just relax. Why don’t you go back to the bed and relax?”

            “I’m very relaxed.”

            “Well, I’m not, you’re breathing down my neck. Shit, Shion, I don’t know anyone as annoying as you,” Nezumi muttered.

            “I’m happy you’re cooking. This is my favorite meal.” Shion pressed his lips into the sleeve of Nezumi’s t-shirt so it wouldn’t count as a kiss.

            _Shut up and get away from me._           

            When Shion smiled it was caught by Nezumi’s sleeve. Couldn’t be seen. Wasn’t there.

            When Shion wrapped his arms around Nezumi’s waist, there was Nezumi’s shirt between their skin. They weren’t really touching. There was no contact at all.

            When Nezumi stiffened and then relaxed again, turning to glance at Shion, it was only a look. He didn’t say anything. His mind was blank.

            When Shion leaned up to press his lips to Nezumi’s, and Nezumi leaned down, it couldn’t have been a kiss. Their mouths were hardly open. Their tongues just barely touched.

            But when Shion took Nezumi’s hand, pulled him to the bed, Nezumi reaching out to turn off the stoves quickly before following, they didn’t have an excuse. They touched, undressed, kissed hard, fucked harder. Undeniably.

            Shion read Nezumi’s mind, every thought he had, his observations and pleasure, what he wanted Shion to do and how he felt as Shion did it. But that wasn’t all Shion read.

            _This is a mistake. A mistake. We should stop._

            Shion froze. Nezumi did not notice and then he did. Shion was on his back. Nezumi was between his legs, inside him, over him. His hair fall around his face, a curtain. Dark as night and starless as the city sky.

            “Don’t read my mind,” Nezumi said.

            “We can stop.”

            “I want you to stop reading my mind.”

            “If you think we should stop let’s stop,” Shion said.

            “Shit, Shion. Do you want to stop?”

            “I want to stop if you want to stop.”  

            Nezumi cursed again. When he hung his head, the ends of his hair tickled Shion’s shoulders. “I don’t want to stop,” Nezumi said.

            _I think we should. That doesn’t mean I want to._

            “Why do you think we should stop?”

            “We have to get into this now? Now, Shion? Shit, let’s just stop, it’s pointless now.” Nezumi pulled out of him. Moved away from him, got off the bed. Shion watched him pull back on his clothes. Boxers. T-shirt. Long fingers in his hair. He walked into the kitchen, bare feet.  

            Shion sat up. Pulled on his own boxers and one of Nezumi’s sweaters that was on the floor even though Shion was already hot. He like how the sweatshirt hung on him, big over his shoulders. He went to the kitchen and sat on the counter while Nezumi turned back on the stoves. The left one, under the pan of shrimp, was tricky. Took a few tries. Nezumi cursed at it.

            “Why were you thinking that? That we shouldn’t have sex? You obviously thought we were going to have sex, you told my mother I was sleeping over,” Shion said.

            _Kid can’t let anything go, so annoying._

            “Don’t call me a kid. We’re the same age.”

            “I already told you, I told your mom you were sleeping over in case you didn’t wake up in time to drive back, and I didn’t want her to worry.”

            “Why shouldn’t we have sex? What does it matter? I’m leaving tomorrow morning either way.”

            “You’re going to argue with my thoughts that I didn’t want you to read, that I didn’t even want to think? You’ve got to argue about everything?” Nezumi demanded.

            “I’d just like to understand your thought process,” Shion said.

            Nezumi turned to him with narrowed eyes. “It’s not a thought process. It’s just a thought, it just happens, sometimes people think things without meaning to, without wanting to, get over it or mind your damn business.”

            Shion knew he should drop it. Knew he was making them fight. He wanted to fight. He didn’t know why. It was easier to fight with Nezumi than anything else. “I just want to know, why does it matter if we have sex or not? Why is it a matter of should or should not? Why can’t we just do what we want?”

            “Shion, will you shut up?”

            “You can’t just tell me to shut up if you don’t like what I’m saying, I have a right to speak my mind.”

            “You have a right to – ?” Nezumi stared at him incredulously, dropping the spoon he was prodding the shrimp with without seeming to notice he’d dropped it. “What is wrong with you? Seriously, what is wrong with you, Shion? You’re trying to fight, aren’t you? You’re trying to provoke me, I know you’re not naturally this annoying, you’ve got to be trying.”

            Shion just looked at him. Liked to look at him. Lips parted. Eyes wide. Flicking over Shion’s face. Crease between them, a line in the paper-white skin.

            _You are trying to fight._

            “I’m not.”

            “You are.”

            “Why would I try to get into a fight with you?”

            _I don’t know, Shion. Why would you try to get into a fight with me?_

            Shion looked away from him. At the half-cooked shrimp. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, but that was a lie.

            It was safer if Nezumi was mad at him. If his thoughts were only of anger, of irritation, of annoyance. If the only way he looked at Shion was with narrowed eyes, a crease between them.

            It was safer than to know what Nezumi would feel otherwise. The wanting, the longing, the heartache. To read all of it in Nezumi’s thoughts.

            Why wouldn’t Shion want to fight? Why wouldn’t Shion prefer anger over being missed when he wasn’t even gone yet, he hadn’t even left yet, how dare Nezumi miss him so much, how dare he not hide it better when Shion knew he could hide his feelings, knew he could suppress them – how dare he not suppress this, how dare he make Shion feel it too? The hurt, the ache. Shion wanted none of it.

            Shion peeked at Nezumi. Nezumi was leaning against the stove. Food forgotten. Watching Shion in a careful way, and Shion missed the glare, the narrowed eyes, tried to think of how he could bring it back.

            “Maybe you should drive home tonight,” Nezumi finally said, slowly.

            Shion shrugged, slid off the counter to stand. “Maybe.”

            Nezumi exhaled hard. Looked away from him, at a cabinet above the stove. “Don’t you want to – Shouldn’t we talk about what we were talking about?”

            Shion examined his profile. Memorized it even though it was already memorized. “What were we talking about?”

            _Trying to make it work. You’d move closer to the city. I’d learn to drive and commute._

            “I don’t think we should do that.” Shion spoke very carefully. Nezumi’s profile didn’t shift.

            _Thought it wasn’t a matter of should or should not. Thought we could just do what we wanted._

            “Okay. I don’t want to do that,” Shion said. It wasn’t a lie. Shion did not want to move. Not an hour outside the city. Not away from where he stood right then. He wanted to stay in this kitchen looking at Nezumi’s profile for the rest of his life.

            This time, there was a flinch in Nezumi’s profile. Shion identified it. A clench of his jaw.

            _Right. Okay. Right._

            A strain pulled the words of Nezumi’s thoughts. There was the hurt Shion didn’t want. The ache he’d been avoiding. He had to get rid of it.

            “I didn’t mean – Nezumi, it’s not that I don’t want to make it work. I would love if this were easy. I would love if there was a solution.” Shion was aware he was saying the word too many times. Love. Every time he said it he noticed it, like something came out of his lips that was not a word at all.

            “There is a solution.”

            “Long distance isn’t a solution, it’s putting off the inevitable.”

            _The inevitable._

            “An hour is not long distance. It’s a normal commute.”

            “Not for someone with shows that end near midnight! The city is your home, Nezumi.”

            _The city was never my home. It’s just somewhere to live._

            Shion shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. I would love if I could be able to rationalize it, but I can’t.” There was that word again. Love. Awkward and bizarre. Shion didn’t know why he was using it.

            He loved Nezumi. This was not new information. He didn’t think it would be new information to Nezumi even though he’d never said it and Nezumi was not the one who could read minds. It was common sense. It was obvious. It was mutual.

            But to hear it might change the way Nezumi looked at him. The hopelessness Nezumi wasn’t hiding nearly well enough. Shion knew he could do better, Shion knew he could empty his expression of everything, Shion knew his features could go blank as if by a switch.

            “I love you, Nezumi, you know that, I love you,” Shion said, refusing to let himself whisper.

            He was right. Nezumi’s expression shifted. Hardened. Closed off, just the way Shion wanted, no reason for his stomach to tighten, no reason for his skin to itch.

            _So what?_

            It took Shion a moment to recover from the words in his head, not even bitter. Just detached. Almost dismissive – _So what?_

            _What difference does that make?_

            “This isn’t easy for me,” Shion managed. This was what he wanted, he reminded himself. Indifference. Apathy.

            Nezumi shook his head.

            _Shit, Shion, you’re so full of bullshit._

            “It’s not bullshit, I do love you.”

            “What the hell does that matter?” Nezumi demanded.

            “It has to matter.”

            “Of course it doesn’t. It doesn’t make a damn difference. Does it? Does it make a difference? You love me, good for you, what the hell are you going to do about it? Walk out this door? Disappear? End this and rationalize it in your head, it makes more sense, it’s more prudent, saves some time and gas money and late nights and little inconveniences to your perfect life, ranks better on your pro and con list, much more practical to just be done with it, it’s just common sense not to bother – right?”

            In Nezumi’s thoughts, his anger continued, but Shion didn’t think they were entirely deliberate –

            _You love me? You’re really something else, Shion, spouting a confession like that, like some excuse for you to use as a shield, some useless justification so you feel better about yourself.  Do you think I give a shit? Do you think that’ll make it any easier when you’re finished with me?_ _What good is love if you’re leaving anyway?_

            “How can you put this all on me? You’re the one who ended this, you’re the one who told me to leave when we were fine, when it was working!” Shion argued back. It was easier to argue than to let what Nezumi was thinking sink in. It was easier to argue than to remember that Nezumi’s family had loved him, and still they had gone. Love didn’t mean anything to Nezumi. It wasn’t the same as staying. No one had ever stayed.

            “That wasn’t working, Shion, you were driving yourself here getting migraines in secret and then your car broke down and it was months – You think that was working? What part of that worked for you?” Nezumi’s eyes were bright but he didn’t cry. Shion had only ever seen Nezumi cry at night, every night, waking from a nightmare with wet eyes and wetter cheeks.

            Haunted by the deaths of everyone he knew. Everyone leaving. Everyone gone.

            What difference had being loved made in Nezumi’s life?

            “We never tried a serious relationship. We don’t even know that it would work. We were only having sex, Nezumi, that’s different than living together. To move somewhere together is rash, to try to change our lives around each other when we don’t even know each other that well – it doesn’t make any sense – ”

            _Bullshit, you’re full of so much bullshit. You don’t know me? Who the hell knows me if you don’t?_

            “You know how much it pisses me off when you lie to me? Of course you know, you can read my mind, so why do you still do it? Is it fun? Are you having fun?”

            Shion felt a swooping sickness through his stomach. “Nezumi, stop.”

            “I thought you loved me, two seconds ago you loved me and now you don’t even know me, now it’s just sex, you should really make up your mind, your arguments are getting fickle.”

            “I thought you didn’t care that I loved you,” Shion countered.

            “Why should I care about that? I care that you’re a fucking liar, Shion, you’re standing there lying to my face, telling me you don’t even know that it would work. What else is supposed to work? Who else are we supposed to work with? You can’t say you’re in love and then decide the circumstances are too inconvenient for you to bother. You can’t use words like love when you don’t even know what it means.”

            Shion had no reply for this. Nezumi looked away from him. A string of curses in his head. In Shion’s head. In both their heads because they shared every thought.

            “Forget it.”

            _I’m not going to beg for you. I never needed you._

            Shion didn’t want Nezumi to beg for him. He couldn’t stand the thought of Nezumi needing him. Nezumi, with hurt in his voice, pain in his thoughts.

            Nezumi, who lied in his own mind. _I never needed you._ What a lie. They both knew it, but it was easier to pretend. Let Nezumi be someone he was not. Nezumi, who didn’t need anyone. Nezumi, who needed only books, words to escape in. It was an easier Nezumi to believe in. It was a lovelier Nezumi to picture. Nezumi, untouchable. Nezumi, invulnerable. Nezumi, unbreakable. Nezumi, shatterproof.

            Shion preferred this Nezumi. The Nezumi presented to the world. Not the Nezumi Shion could see, the Nezumi who couldn’t suppress every thought in the end, the Nezumi that leaked out, mind betraying the persona he’d built for everyone else, the persona he took down for Shion.

            “It’s not worth it to you. I understand,” Nezumi said, a little robotic. Here was the Nezumi Shion preferred. The Nezumi whose voice was detached. The Nezumi who didn’t care. The Nezumi whom Shion hadn’t hurt. The Nezumi whom Shion couldn’t hurt.

            “That’s not true,” Shion said. A whisper. He didn’t know why he was saying it. Wasn’t this what he wanted? For Nezumi to let it go? To give up on him?

            Why did he want that? Shion knew he’d had a reason. To get rid of the hurt, to stop hearing the pain. The detachment was easier. It was supposed to be easier. Why wasn’t it easier?

            “You don’t owe me anything,” Nezumi said. He was looking at Shion in a careful, wary way. There was the distance and detachment, but underneath it Shion could see the caution.

            _You were all I had. But we aren’t the same. I was never all you had._

            Nezumi turned away from him again. Looked down at the stove. He had been cooking. Everything would be overcooked by now. Nothing edible. Shion didn’t know how much time had passed since Nezumi had turned on the stoves again, but it felt like forever.

            Shion didn’t look away from Nezumi. Long eyelashes, curled. Hair that fell over his face. Hid his cheeks. Clung to his shoulders, hung limply in front of his chest.

            _Can you not read my thoughts right now?_

            Shion couldn’t help it. They both knew that. For seven years Shion had wished he could stop reading minds, but never as much as he did now.

            He wanted to tell Nezumi yes. He wanted to tell him he would stop. Right now. Never again. Nezumi’s thoughts were safe. His pain was hidden. His hurt unseen.

            When Nezumi shook his head at the stove, his hair shifted, his bangs falling forward, shielding his eyes. Shion couldn’t see his eyelashes anymore. His chest hurt.

            _I know you can’t help it. You can leave if you want. You should leave. Can you leave?_

            This, Shion could do. He wanted more to reach out. Tuck Nezumi’s bangs behind his ear. Uncover those eyelashes. Long, curled.

            He didn’t. He left.

*

“Why would you leave?”

            Shion could not see Safu. They were speaking on the phone. It hardly seemed to make a difference. Safu was not hiding her thoughts on the matter.

            “It doesn’t make sense, Safu.”

            “I agree, it doesn’t make sense. Hence why I asked – Why would you leave?”

            Shion squinted in the setting sun. He had been taking a jog, but it was hard to breathe. He’d slowed to a walk and called Safu, unsure how he’d made it almost an entire twenty-four hours without calling his friend to tell her.

            “How can I move an hour outside the city? How can I ask Nezumi to move with me? We can’t live together, we only just opened up to each other, what – two days ago? Maybe I knew him for years, but that was just sex, it only just became real, it makes no sense at all to move in with him, to ask him to change his life, to change my own life – How can you rationalize that, Safu? You’re the one with no emotional stake in this, it should be easy for you to see that I was right.”

            November was near, but the wind was not as crisp as it should have been. If anything, Shion felt hot, walking past the bakery instead of turning to end the jog he’d failed to do. He liked walking. It gave him purpose. If he was walking, he was not in his room. Not sitting still.

            Walking also offered him strangers’ thoughts to distract himself with. A few people out. It was Thursday afternoon. He’d gotten home from Nezumi’s close to two in the morning.

            “I have an emotional stake in this. You are my emotional stake. You are aware that I care deeply about you, right?”

            Shion sighed. “Of course I know that, Safu.”

            “Good, then we’ve confirmed I have an emotional stake in your decision to leave Nezumi when he was asking you to stay, and you wanted to stay. Can we return to my previous question? Why would you leave?”

            “I couldn’t ask him to change his life to accommodate me.”

            “That’s the wrong answer.”

            Shion watched a woman giddy over a prospective job promotion cross the street. “What is the right answer then?”

            “How about the truth?” Safu suggested, her tone not completely lacking exasperation.

            “The truth?” Shion was a mind reader. He knew what everyone was thinking, and that included himself. His own thoughts were not a mystery to him. His own reasoning was not unknown. He took a steadying breath, turned around the corner, walked past the library in his small town, not nearly as expansive as that in Tokyo. Long shelves. Countless books. Carpet with blue fibers, tightly coiled. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

            “Nezumi?”

            “Yes.”

            Safu didn’t say anything. Shion listened to her silence. Wondered what she was thinking, a rare thing to wonder. He preferred not to know. He envied everyone who did not have to know.

            When she did speak, Shion remembered why he didn’t want the thoughts of others. “You already are hurting him, Shion.”

            Shion exhaled hard, his lungs eager to be empty. “I know that.” He knew that.

            “Then you should see the incongruence of your reasoning.”

            “What if we did move in together? What if we did try? What if we did get serious? What if he fell in love with me, Safu?”

            “He is in love with you. It astonishes me that I would have to point that out to you. Aren’t you the mind reader?”

            Shion ignored this. “Right now, as much as I’m in his life, I’m also not. I’m far away. We never saw each other consistently, after I first left Tokyo the December after I dropped out of college. We never really occupied each other’s lives. My absence now will hurt him, I know that, but it could be so much worse.”

            “In this scenario you’re presenting, you’re anticipating a break-up, right? What about the possibility that you stay together? That you never have to cause an absence in his life after you’ve fully occupied it?”

            “How can I know that? I can’t tell the future, Safu, I want to be with him forever, but what if it doesn’t work?”

            “So he’s not worth the risk? I find that difficult to believe, seeing as at least seventy-five percent of our conversations involve Nezumi since you met him.”

            Shion shivered, walking on the side of the street engulfed in shade. He stood at the edge of the sidewalk, looked both ways, then crossed the street. Sunlight was a relief despite feeling hot not five minutes before. “If you look at it objectively, we’re completely incompatible people. I read minds, and most of Nezumi’s life has encompassed suppressing his thoughts. That is how he survives. It’s how he endures what he’s had to get through in his past. I take that ability away from him. He’s a deliberately distant person, and I am forced to breach that carefully constructed distance. How can we possibly work?”

            “You do realize that if anyone has a right to be bothered by your breach of Nezumi’s carefully constructed distance, it’s Nezumi, not you. Clearly, he is quite willing to let you read his mind. Have you considered that he wants you to? He wants someone to know the parts about him that he hides? A person like Nezumi who has mastered suppressing his own thoughts can’t be truly known by anyone, but then there’s you, Shion. Why do you think he is so drawn to you? You force down his walls. You are the only one who can really know him. Don’t you think he wants to be known? Don’t you think he’s been lonely for such a long time that it’s a relief to be known?”

            Shion was already hot in the sun. He watched the other side of the street, the shade there, and considered crossing back over. “Maybe it’s a relief now. But in a year? Longer? How can I know he’ll still welcome my violations of his privacy? Who would want that, but especially Nezumi – how could he be okay with that?”

            “You really are full of excuses, Shion. How did you think of them all? It’s almost impressive.”

            Shion narrowed his eyes. “Since when were you so sarcastic?”

            “Since when were you so evasive?” Safu countered. “You’re going to let some worry about the distant future prevent you from happiness?”

            “I can be happy without Nezumi.”

            “Do you want to be?”

            Shion rubbed at his forehead. A man exiting a store thought about whether to put his receipt in his pocket or the bag. “It scares me. That’s the truth, Safu. It scares me what I do to him. He’s strong and indestructible, and I ruin that. I don’t want to do that to him. I can’t stand to take away the defenses he’s built for himself.”

            “Oh, Shion, don’t give yourself so much credit. Nezumi is not indestructible. No one is indestructible. And loving someone, having someone to love, that certainly does not make a person weak. I know you know that. Nezumi is obviously willing to risk changing who he is, the way he lives, the way he distances himself from people – he’s willing to change all of that for you. Why won’t you give him the chance? If you really love him, can’t you see that this will make his life so much brighter? Can’t you see that you will make his life so much fuller?”

            Shion stopped walking. The sunset was right in front of him. Purple and orange. Clouds like they’d been painted in.

            “I’m so scared to be another person he’ll have to lose,” Shion confessed, to the painted clouds. They moved so slowly they might not have been moving at all.

            “Then don’t be.”

            Safu said it like it was simple. It had never occurred to Shion that it might be.

            A woman walking her dog fell into Shion’s line of sight. He watched her, read her worries about her parents, fighting more than usual, what if they were unhappy together, what if they got a divorce?

            In her head, in Shion’s head, it was a serious problem. No detection of a solution.

            But that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Maybe she was too caught up in her own doubts to see it. Maybe Shion was too caught up in her thoughts, in everyone’s thoughts, to realize that worry did not have to eclipse joy.

            There was a sunset, bright and building, right in front of them. Shion started walking again, just enough past the woman that to look at him, she would have to turn, see the sunset above his shoulder.

            “Excuse me,” Shion said, and the woman turned, her thoughts immediately reflecting on Shion’s unusual features in a mild but not unkind wonder as her dog came forward to sniff Shion’s shoes.

            Shion laughed, leaned down to ruffle its ears. Tucked his phone, Safu still on the other line, into his pocket.

            “Sorry to bother you, my phone just died. Could you give me the time?”

            “Sure, it’s um –  Rosco, stop that – It’s just past six.”

            “Thanks,” Shion said, watching the gaze of the woman – really a girl, he saw, from closer up – catch onto the sunset above Shion’s shoulder.

            _Oh, wow, that’s amazing._

            “Of course,” the girl said, and Shion walked away from her, but he glanced back over his shoulder after a few steps, read her thoughts for only a second, enough to know she was still taking in the sunset.

            It was just a sunset. There were infinite sunsets. They were fleeting things, their beauty reduced to cliché. A few remarkable colors in the sky couldn’t fix a thing.

            But Shion had a hard time believe this, listening to the thoughts of the woman. Maybe a sunset, cliché as it was, could help.

            He took his phone from his back pocket, found Safu speaking.

            “ – still there? Shion?”

            “Yeah, I’m here, sorry. I had to do something.”

            “Do what?”

            “Read someone’s mind.” Shion couldn’t fix people. Nezumi had told him this. People were not his to fix, and neither was Nezumi.

            But he could make them happier. Even if it didn’t last forever, it would last at least a moment. And what else could make up a lifetime but moments?

*

There were many small towns just outside of Tokyo.

            Hakone, picturesque near Mount Fuji on a gorgeous lake.

            Nikko, with mountains, hot springs, and shrines.

            Kamakura, a beach town dotted with temples.

            “Those are tourist towns,” Safu said, peering over Shion’s shoulder.

            “Tourists go there for a reason. Look how beautiful that lake is,” Shion said, defensive, pointing even though the image took up the entire laptop screen, impossible to miss.

            Safu agreed that the lake was beautiful and left her room to grab snacks from her kitchen.

            Shion kept scrolling. Nezumi would hate tourists. Shion clicked out of the website, amended his previous Google search.

            _– small low profile towns outside Tokyo –_

            Pressed enter. Waited for the results.

*

In a week, Shion and Safu took a roadtri. They left before the sunrise, Shion armed with a list scrawled on a page of looseleaf torn out from his long-term injury recovery notebook.

            “Nezumi should be doing this with you,” Safu said. It was not the first time she said this.

            “I can’t go back to him until I’ve got a concrete plan. I need to prove to him I’m serious, and the only way to do that is to have evidence.” Shion had though this through after the first time Safu had told him this.

            “Evidence as in a key? You can’t choose a place for you both to live without his input.”

            “Evidence as in a few addresses for him to look at. I’m obviously not going to buy a house without his permission, Safu.”

            Shion clicked on his turn signal even though the road was mostly empty. The movement satisfying for a reason he couldn’t explain to himself.

            “You could at least call him.”

            “I want to surprise him.” Only partially a lie. Shion did want to surprise Nezumi.

            He also had a strong feeling Nezumi would not pick up if he called.

            “So you’re fine with the fact that you’ve just let him be miserable the past week.”

            “It hasn’t been a week. And he’s not miserable,” Shion said. Shion didn’t know if this was a lie or not. Shion had no evidence of how Nezumi felt. He hadn’t been able to read Nezumi’s mind at all since leaving Nezumi’s apartment three days before. He didn’t find this strange. He’d gone much longer than three days without any of Nezumi’s thoughts.

            Shion glanced at the GPS on his phone, searched for street signs to confirm it.

            “You can’t go house hunting without the person who’s going to buy the house with you,” Safu insisted.

            “We’re not house hunting, we’re just looking at areas.”

            “Nezumi should also be looking at areas.”

            “Safu,” Shion said.

            “What?” Safu asked.

            Shion glanced at her, and she stuck out her tongue. Her hair was tossed around her cheeks by wind streaming through the open window.

            _He’s irrational when he’s in love. Fascinating._

            Shion couldn’t deny his friend’s thoughts for two reasons. One, he didn’t respond to thoughts unless they were Nezumi’s and meant for him to hear. Two, to deny her thoughts would be a complete lie, blatant, outright, exhaustive.

*

“Look at this view!”

            Shion leaned his head out the window, happy to have the wind weave through his hair. It was November, but the sun was bright and kept the winter at bay. The sleeves of Shion’s sweater bunched above his elbows, though the left kept falling down, needed to be hiked up every five minutes or so.

            “Nezumi should be the one seeing that view!” Safu called, from somewhere else in the house. It was tiny, rickety, cute. Shion loved it. He wanted to live in it. To sleep in it, cook in it, eat in it, laugh in it.

            Shion grinned out the window. Leaned his elbows on the window pane. Sunlight scattered diamonds on the lake that invaded the backyard. Shion let himself imagine living in this little house, only one bedroom, only a little kitchen with hardly enough room for two people, but they were used to small spaces.

            This would be perfect.

*

“I like this view better,” Safu said, her voice floating through the house to where Shion investigated the bathroom.

            He liked that there was a cabinet behind the mirror. Perfect for housing a bottle of Advil.

            “Mountains are more exciting than lakes,” Safu continued.

            Shion closed the mirror and stepped into the tub. It could be big enough for two people. Nezumi was probably someone who read in the bath. He was someone who read anywhere.

            “Of course, it’s not my opinion on views that matters. Nezumi should be here,” Safu called.

            Shion laughed, lying in the tub now, fully dressed and dry. He imagined Nezumi’s fingers in his hair, massaging in shampoo. “You made your point, Safu!” he called back.

            “Get him out here then!”

            “I’m going to surprise him!”

            Safu’s reply was not loud enough for him to hear. Shion slid down and leaned the back of his head against the rim of the tub. He could have fallen asleep.

*

“Does Nezumi like stairs? There’s a lot of stairs in this one.”

            “There’s only one set of stairs.”

            “I don’t like the types of houses where there’s only a kitchen and living room on the bottom floor and the bedroom is upstairs. It’s inconvenient,” Safu said. She was on top of the stairs, calling down to Shion, who opened the cupboards in the kitchen one by one and pictured ingredients inside them, long fingers pulling out those ingredients, a calming voice complaining about paprika.

            “Well, the house is not for you, is it?” Shion asked the stove, flicking on the gas of each. The back right stovetop was tricky, took a few tries to turn on. Shion felt a familiarity with it and regarded it fondly.

            “Now that you mention it, Nezumi should really be here seeing these stairs. I don’t know him well, but I bet he wouldn’t like them either. It’s a terrible floorplan.”

            Shion bit his lip around his smile.

*

Sunday was spent looking over the flyers, the pictures they’d taken, the notes Shion had scribbled on both his and Safu’s opinions of the houses, the areas, the towns.

            He had a list of realtors’ numbers. Numbers of current owners of the residences they’d toured. Numbers of building managers of apartments.

            “I like the little houses more than the apartments,” Shion said.

            “You should find out what Nezumi likes,” Safu said.

            “Do you think this is enough evidence?” Shion asked, looking at the scattered papers surrounding them on Shion’s bed.

            “Evidence of what?” Safu asked, scrolling through photographs on her phone. “Oh, this is the house with the stairs, should we go ahead and cross this off the list to eliminate it?”

            “Evidence that I’m serious. That I want to do this more than anything. That any risk we take or any sacrifice we have to make for each other is worth it. That I’m not just changing my mind again, that I want him in my life no matter what, and I made a mistake walking away from him, and I made a mistake letting him tell me to leave a year and eight months ago, and I made a mistake convincing myself it was just sex and wasn’t real all this time.”

            “Shouldn’t you save that speech for Nezumi?” Safu asked.

            “I was practicing it.”

            Safu smiled gently. In her thoughts were only hopeful things, and Shion loved to look at her. “It’s pretty good.”

            “I need him to understand.”

            “He’ll understand.”

            “I hurt him. He asked me to stay and I walked away from him. He asked me to try to make it work with him and I left him. He opened up to me and was honest and vulnerable and I hurt him.”

            “He’ll forgive you.”

             “He must hate me.”

             “Maybe. But he loves you more.”

            “Is this enough evidence?”

            “I don’t think you’d need any evidence to convince him. I think just you will be enough,” Safu said, and Shion knew she was not just saying it.

            She was thinking it, too, and he read it, felt reassured by her thoughts.

             “When should I go talk to him?” Shion asked. He was terrified to. He couldn’t wait.

             “You should have talked to him before we went house hunting,” Safu said, and Shion couldn’t help it.

            He laughed, hard, so that he could not catch his breath, and as he tried to get ahold of himself, he read Safu’s thoughts.

            _He’s so happy when he’s in love. Incredible._

*

Shion decided to take the bus to the city to avoid any chance of a migraine. A bus out of town to Tokyo did not leave until Tuesday at noon, and so Shion was forced to wait.

            On the bus, Shion looked out the window at the trees flying by. Trees were safe. Thoughtless. Mindless. Shion liked watching them, and kept his eyes open until they got closer to the city and were no longer in the right-hand lane. Cars appeared in the lane beside theirs filled with drivers and passengers. Shion closed his eyes.

            Shion still had Nezumi’s key. It was five by the time Shion got from the bus station in the city to Nezumi’s apartment. Nezumi would not be in rehearsal or a show on a Tuesday at five. Shion could not hear any thoughts standing outside Nezumi’s door, contemplating the key in his hand.

            He didn’t contemplate for very long. He opened the door. The apartment was empty. Shion walked around it, finding it the same as he’d left it just a week before.

            He left, locked the door behind him, and headed to the library. He watched his shoes, even as he crossed the library doors, but the moment there was blue carpet – tightly coiled fibers – beneath them, there was Nezumi’s voice.

            _In a nervous and slender-leaved mimosa grove at the back of their villa we found a perch on the ruins of a low stone wall._

            Calming. Shion walked forward slowly, in no rush at all. Content to listen to the voice inside his head a little longer.

            _Unless it can be proven to me – to me as I am now, today, with my heart and my beard, and my putrefaction – that, in the infinite run it does not matter a jot that a North American girl child named Dolores Haze had been deprived of her childhood by a maniac…_

            Shion recognize the words in his head. He had checked this book out of the library at home, sometime in the year and eight months he was without Nezumi. It had not sounded, in his own head, as it did with Nezumi’s voice.

            _And softly, confidentially, arching her thin eyebrows and puckering her parched lips, she emitted a little mockingly, somewhat fastidiously, not untenderly, in a kind of muted whistle that name the astute reader had guessed long ago._

            Shion was in the wrong aisle. He had borrowed this book. He knew the author. He had seen this book in a stack on Nezumi’s floor, which was why he borrowed it. Why he read it. The author’s last name did not begin with O, and yet Shion was in the shelves with author’s whose last names began with O. He walked along it slowly, trailing his fingertips on the bumps of the spines, like smooth bones.

            _We had been everywhere. We had really seen nothing. And I catch myself thinking today that our long journey had only defiled with a sinuous trail of slime the lovely, trustful, dreamy, enormous country, that, by then, in retrospect…_

            Shion was at the end of his aisle. In the neighboring aisle would stand a man holding a book in the palm of his hand. The other hand raised, one long finger trailing along the page of a book, skimming it like the words were written in braille. Shion pictured this man clearly, without doubt. Wondered only if the dark hair would already be tucked behind an ear, or if he would be allowed to witness that gesture himself.

            _...was no more than a collection of dog-eared maps, ruined tour books, old tires and her sobs in the night – every night, every night – the moment I feigned sleep._

            Shion walked around the end of the shelf. Nezumi’s hair was not tucked behind his ear. He looked at Shion immediately.

            _You’ve got to be kidding me._

            The book was snapped shut in Nezumi’s palm.

            “I need to talk to you,” Shion said.

            _No thanks._

            Nezumi shoved the book back on its shelf. Shion doubted it was in the right place. Nezumi hadn’t even looked at the shelf as he’d crammed the book onto it.

            Nezumi walked out the aisle. Shion followed him.

            “Don’t you want to check out a book?”

            _Don’t follow me._

            “Can we get coffee?”

            _No._

            They were outside the library. Nezumi walked with long strides. This was not surprising. He had long legs.

            “I made a mistake. I was wrong,” Shion said. He considered reaching out for Nezumi’s arm.

            _Don’t do this._

            “Give me a chance.”

            “I’d rather not.” Unlike the thoughts in his head, Nezumi’s voice was toneless, not even impatient, not even irritated.

            “I’m sorry, Nezumi. I gave up because I was scared. And I know that sounds cliché and like a line from one of your plays, worse than that even, I know that. But I was scared of hurting you, and I was scared that if we tried for real – not that anything we did wasn’t real – but more real, you know what I mean, if we really tried to have a relationship, not something where we saw each other every other weekend but something more than that – I was scared you would start to hate me. I read minds, and I was scared of what you would think of me when I couldn’t stop reading your mind. And I was scared that it wouldn’t work. And it’s such a stupid excuse, I know that, but it’s the truth. I was scared to hurt you, and I was scared you would hurt me back.”

            “If you say scared one more time I might hit you,” Nezumi said, conversationally, lightly, like he didn’t care at all.

            _Nothing has changed._

            “What else can I say to you? I love you and I miss you and I want to make a life with you.”

            “Don’t you feel embarrassed when you say shit like that?” Nezumi asked mildly.

            “Why should I feel embarrassed?” Shion demanded. “I’m embarrassed I haven’t said it more.”

            “Please don’t start trying to make up for it now, I just ate lunch.”

            “I have pictures of houses I want to show you. I have numbers of realtors. I want us to live together. I want to live with you. I have savings from working at my mother’s bakery, and I know you won’t have a lot of cash until your debt is paid off, but if you’re no longer paying rent at your current apartment, you can help with monthly installments on the new house. I know your lease is up for renewal at the end of December, I talked to your landlord. We can move then. And after your debt is paid off, you’ll have a lot of spare cash, you can pay the remainder of your share at that point. Until then, I’ll cover what you can’t. It’s not charity, you’ll be paying it back, and you’ll pay it back easily once you haven’t got a debt to pay, your pay check is substantial. The monthly installments on the mortgages of the houses I was looking at split two ways are a little more than your current rent, but I think it’s worth it.”

            Nezumi stopped walking somewhere in Shion’s explanation. Shion stopped as well. When he paused for a breath he noted that they were by the Ethiopian eatery a block from Nezumi’s apartment.

            “What?” Nezumi asked. “What?”

            “What?” Shion asked back, then shook his head, tried not to smile. “Why are you saying what? Did you not hear what I said? It’s a lot to repeat, Nezumi. The gist is most houses won’t be as cheap as your apartment, but it is an apartment in Tokyo, so the rates of a house outside the city are actually more similar than you would guess. If you still can’t afford it, I can help you out until your debt is paid and you have more money to – ”

            “I heard you,” Nezumi interrupted.

            “Then why did you say what?”

            Nezumi just stared at him.

            “What?” Shion asked, after of minute of letting Nezumi look at him.

            Nezumi’s thoughts were silent. Stubbornly so.

            “You looked at houses outside the city?”

            “Yes. Safu came with me.”

            “When did you do that?”

            “Saturday. And some more online on Sunday. I wanted to come earlier to let you know, but I didn’t want to drive into the city, and the first bus that left was today.”

            “Houses for us to live in. Together,” Nezumi said. Skeptical. Disbelieving.

            “Yes. And a few apartments, but I like the houses better.” Shion recalled what Safu had said many times. “Maybe I should have asked you to come with me. But – I wanted to surprise you. Which sounds stupid now that I say it. But I didn’t make any decisions, and I looked at a variety of towns, and I took a bunch of photos, and we can go again this weekend if you want, or even now, or tomorrow, or whenever.”

            “You looked at houses for us to move into.”

            “You make me sound like a crazy person, but we did discuss this, do you remember discussing this?” Shion asked. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t like that he couldn’t read Nezumi’s thoughts even though he had frequently received only silence from this man’s mind.

            Nezumi gave Shion a scrutinizing gaze but nothing more. “Sure. You said it was impractical.”

            “I don’t think I used that word.”

            “A synonym of impractical. I left my thesaurus at home.”     

            “I no longer think it’s impractical or any synonym of impractical. I want to move in with you, but I can’t when you’re living in the city, and you can’t move to my hometown, partly because I’m living with my mother but also because you work four hours away. To move together just an hour outside the city is very practical. And every synonym of practical.”      

            “Suddenly your mind just changed.” Nezumi tucked his hair behind his ears. Shion was in love with the gesture. In love with the man.

            “I was being an idiot.”

            “Suddenly you just realized that.”

            “I am sorry. I was wrong. I made a mistake.” Shion untucked his hands from his pockets. Had nowhere to put them. Wanted to put them on Nezumi but decided not to, not yet.

            “You said that already. Don’t start talking about how you were scared again.”

            Shion bit his lip. “I won’t.”

            “This is where I take you in my arms and tell you not to worry about anything, right? This is my cue? I should probably apologize too. Say I was scared too. That we all make mistakes. It’s only human. Do you want me to cry?”

            “I want you to tell me what you’re really thinking.”

            “Read my mind. I didn’t think I had to give you permission.”

            “I can’t read your mind, and you know I can’t. You’re suppressing your thoughts.”

            Nezumi leaned closer to him, only a fraction of an inch. His eyes narrowed just as slightly. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”

            Every time someone walked by them, Shion accidentally read their thoughts. He was growing impatient with the number of voices in his head that weren’t Nezumi’s.

            “I had a migraine, I was overwhelmed, I wasn’t thinking. I don’t want to give you excuses, Nezumi, I was wrong, I was just wrong. You’re going to punish me for that? I want to spend the rest of my life with you, you won’t let me do that because it took me a few extra days to figure it out? Does that seem fair?”

            “Did you practice saying that?” Nezumi asked.

            Shion didn’t care if Nezumi was sarcastic. He didn’t care at all what Nezumi said.

            He wanted only what Nezumi thought, and Nezumi wouldn’t give it to him.

            “So what? You want me to go home? You don’t want to look at the pictures? I took some good pictures.”

            “Of houses.”

            “Yes.”

            “Your plan was to come here and show me pictures of houses and spout some line about wanting to spend your life with me but being a few days late in figuring it out.”

            “Yeah, that was my plan,” Shion said dryly. He could be sarcastic too. “I thought it was okay.”

            Nezumi’s lips twitched. He turned away from Shion. Shion didn’t mind. He liked tracing the line of Nezumi’s profile.

            “If you don’t want to move in with me, then don’t. But I’m going to move outside the city. And I’m going to keep visiting you here. And I’m going to keep asking you to move in with me. If you let me skip all the migraine-inducing car rides, I’d really appreciate it.”

            _You practiced that too, didn’t you?_

            Shion almost made a sound, an indescribable sound he could not guess at, his relief at hearing Nezumi’s thoughts was so immense.

            “No, that part was impromptu.”

            Nezumi looked at him fully again. Calculating grey eyes.

            _You want to move in together?_

“Yes.”

            _You changed your mind. What if you change your mind again?_

            “I think most of the deposits on these houses are nonrefundable,” Shion offered, trying not to smile, and then he did not have to try. He could see Nezumi’s worry. He could see it was real. He softened his voice. “There’s nothing to change my mind to, Nezumi. There’s nothing else but you.”

            Nezumi did not ask Shion if he practiced this line.

            _I don’t trust you._

            Shion swallowed. There was no anger in Nezumi’s thoughts. It was a confession. The words were almost shy. Shion gave himself a second to catch his breath. “Okay. Okay, I understand. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you that you can trust me again. In the meantime, will you think about it? And look at the pictures I took?”

            _It’s just pictures. No harm in looking at pictures. We could get coffee. No harm in coffee._

            Shion looked away from Nezumi to give him space to think, even though Shion could still read Nezumi’s thoughts when Shion wasn’t looking at him. Even though Nezumi was the exception to the rule. Every rule.

            “Fine,” Nezumi finally said.

            _Want to get coffee?_

            “I would love that,” Shion said, hoping he wasn’t too earnest. Nezumi gave him a wary look anyway, eyes slightly narrowed, but began walking again, turning back around the way they’d came, leading where Shion knew was the coffee shop they’d first gone to.

            Shion was aware of the word he used only after he used it. Love. Not a secret, but not entirely important anyway. Almost useless.

            What did love matter?

            What mattered was to stay, and Shion wanted nothing more than that.

*

Shion did not spend the night at Nezumi’s apartment.

            He didn’t have a car, and there were no buses back to his hometown, but Shion had no intention of going back to his hometown.

            He stayed instead at a hotel. He had never spent his money superfluously, and Nezumi was not something superfluous.

            He was necessary. To gain his trust again was impertinent. There was nothing more important in Shion’s life. There was nothing that mattered more.

            He’d offered his phone to Nezumi in the coffee shop, watching Nezumi look at the pictures, scrolling slowly with his long finger touching Shion’s screen. Shion read the reactions in Nezumi’s mind.

            Nezumi liked mountains more than lakes. He did not mind stairs. He wondered how many stars he would be able to see from the windows of the houses. Shion decided he would return to each of them at night, take pictures of the skies from their backyards, and bring them back to Nezumi to see.

            On Wednesday mornings, Nezumi had rehearsal at ten.

            Shion planted himself outside Nezumi’s apartment building at half past nine. He’d waited only ten minutes when Nezumi emerged from the building, and Shion fell into step beside him.

            He heard Nezumi’s surprise in his head.

            _He’s still here?_

            “Good morning,” Shion said. He handed Nezumi a cup of coffee he’d swiped from the hotel lobby. He knew Nezumi more often than not woke too late in the mornings to have time to make himself coffee.

            Nezumi took the cup warily. Shion listened to him read aloud from the logo around the side.

            _A hotel? You’re at a hotel?_     

            “It’s odd how nice it is, it should be colder now that it’s November, don’t you think?” Shion asked.           

            _You’re talking about the weather?_

Shion glanced sideways at Nezumi, found wide grey eyes on him, the man not trying to hide his confusion.

            Shion knew he’d only just woken. Still shedding shreds of unconsciousness. It would take him a moment to compose himself, but Shion lived for the moments when Nezumi was only half-awake. Emotions flitting softly over his features before he remembered to hide them.

            “We could talk about something else,” Shion proposed cheerfully. He was cheerful. Grateful that Nezumi had not taken him back so easily.

            That would not have been the Nezumi Shion knew. The guarded Nezumi. Cautious. Wary.

            Shion wanted to work for Nezumi’s trust. Wanted to earn it. Wanted to have it fully, completely, without regrets.

            “You didn’t tell me you were staying in the city.”

            “I didn’t tell you I was leaving,” Shion said. He hadn’t told Nezumi he was staying in Tokyo because he didn’t want to stay at Nezumi’s apartment, and even more so, he didn’t want Nezumi to tell him he couldn’t stay at his apartment.

            “How long are you staying?”

            “Not sure.”

            “Don’t you have school?”

            “Online classes. I brought my laptop.”

            “What about the bakery?”

            “My mom has run it without me in the past, she’ll be perfectly fine. Safu will probably stop by and help out since she’s home. She graduated last spring, did I tell you?”

            “So, what? You’re just going to stay in the city and stalk me until I decide to buy a house with you and settle down with a dog?”

            “Do you like dogs?” Shion asked, and Nezumi blinked at him.

            “No, I don’t,” he finally said.

            “You don’t like dogs?”

            “They smell.” 

            “We’d wash our dog.”

            “I’m not getting a dog with you!” Nezumi snapped, and Shion stopped walking.

            Nezumi stopped as well. He had not taken a sip of coffee.

            “I’m not stalking you. I came to bring you coffee and ask if you’d come over for dinner tonight. Are you free around six?”

            “Come over for dinner? Where?” Nezumi asked.

            “My hotel room.”

            “You want me to go to your hotel room for dinner?”

            _Has this kid lost his mind?_

            “You can’t call me a kid, we’re the same age,” Shion replied.

            _I tell you I don’t trust you and you’re already trying to fuck me again? Are you serious?_

            Shion was relieved he was able to suppress his flinch. “I don’t want to have sex with you. I want to have dinner with you.”

            “In a hotel room.”

            “Yes, it happens to be in a hotel room. Please disregard the apparently sexual connotation that you seem to associate with hotel rooms. You don’t have to come, and you don’t have to decide right now either. I just wanted to let you know that I’d like to see you for dinner, and I’d really like it if you did come. That’s it, Nezumi. I’ll go now, the theater’s right there anyway. Have a good rehearsal.” Shion turned around before Nezumi could say anything. Specifically, before Nezumi could decline his invitation.

            As he turned to cross the street, Nezumi’s thoughts were quick and clearly not intended for him to hear, so Shion did not reply even though it took everything he had to keep walking across the street, not to turn back, not to say something to the man whose voice filled up his head so naturally. As if it belonged there.

_Completely insane. What time did he say to come? Six? I think it was six. Six o’ clock, dinner with Shion. Won’t go. Want to go. Shouldn’t go. Why would I go?_

            Shion had to get to a grocery store. Had to buy ingredients. Had to find a recipe for parmesan risotto and roasted shrimp online. Knew it didn’t take long to cook, but he thought he might bake something too. Maybe cinnamon buns. Maybe something else. Nezumi liked cherries. Swiped them from bags at the grocery store, ate one or two as he passed by them on his way to pick up a bunch of bananas. Cherry pie. It took longer. Long enough to keep Shion busy until six o clock.

            If Nezumi did not come, there were more recipes. There were more pastries. There were more nights.

            Shion would wait for him.

*

Shion did not wait long.

            A knock on the door at half past six. Shion had just peeked at his cherry pie, cooling on the counter. Just turned off the stovetops beneath the finished food.

            “Coming!”

            He had not expected Nezumi to come for his first dinner invitation. He had anticipated trying out many recipes. Expanding his cooking repertoire. Exploring aisles of the grocery store he had not yet ventured with ingredients he’d only just discovered from recipes he looked up between watching lecture videos.

            Nezumi stood in the doorway. Different clothes than he’d worn to rehearsal that morning. Shion could not remember what Nezumi wore to rehearsal that morning, but it wasn’t this.

            Leather jacket Shion knew. White button up Shion knew. Buttons left open over a white t-shirt. Black jeans Shion knew. Black boots Shion knew.

            Hair down, tucked behind his ears. He lifted a hand anyway. Shion watched the familiar gesture, long fingers not seeming to notice the dark hair was already tucked back.

            “Hi.”

            _Smells good. Risotto and shrimp. I knew it._

            “Hi,” Shion said, then stepped aside. “Come in.”

            “You didn’t tell me a room number.”

            Shion had forgotten. Remembered in the seafood section of the freezer aisle. Cursed himself as he compared prices of shrimp.

            “You found me anyway.” Shion closed the door behind Nezumi.

            “Guy at the front desk remembered you. Unsurprisingly.”

            _Red eyes._

            Nezumi glanced around the suite, disappearing into the bathroom for only a few seconds, returning and investigating the living area and bedroom while Shion returned to the kitchen area, Nezumi still in view.

            “This is a nice room,” Nezumi finally said, while Shion poured them wine. He’d looked at the champagne bottles in the liquor store for a solid five minutes before deciding on wine.

            He didn’t know if Nezumi had ever had wine. Thought Nezumi might like to try it.

            “Yeah, I used points from my credit card.”

            _Points?_

            “Certain credit card companies award you with points when you buy certain things. And of course, you have to pay your bills on time. Slowly your points add up so that you can use them in exchange for stuff, most often on hotels or airfare, things like that.” Shion did not look at Nezumi as he explained this. He retrieved plates, having to check three cabinets before he found them. He knew Nezumi did not like having things explained to him.

            When Nezumi finished paying his debt to the owner of the theater, Shion would help him set up a bank account. He doubted Nezumi had ever in his life thought about saving for retirement, or even putting money aside to save at all.

            Nezumi had no thoughts on this. When Shion looked at him, he was sitting at the kitchen counter that doubled as a half wall between the kitchen area and the living area. There was only one stool, and Shion was glad Nezumi took it.

            He slid Nezumi’s plate in front of him with a fork and napkin. Beside it, a wine glass. He’d chosen red wine, wanting it to stain Nezumi’s teeth and lips, only to see what Nezumi looked like with wine-stained skin.

            In truth, Shion preferred white wine.

            Nezumi’s gaze lingered on the wine glass, but he did not think or say anything in relation to it other than a soft – “Thanks.”

            They ate in silence, Shion standing with his plate balanced beside the sink, Nezumi sitting across the counter from him, peering around the walls, thoughtless.

            Nezumi did not taste his wine until after his plate was clean. He sniffed it first, then drank a very small sip.

            He blinked, but didn’t think anything. Took another sip. Replaced it on the counter. Was still looking at it when in his thoughts –

            _You’re staring._

            “I’m not. How was rehearsal?”

            “Uneventful.” Nezumi looked up at him in a heavy way. He kept looking. Shion stared back, then couldn’t hold his gaze, looked down at his half-empty plate.

            _Worried._          

            Shion took a deep breath. Let it out slowly, a stream of air. He was not aware that he appeared worried. He had no reason to appear worried. He was not worried.

            He knew it would work out. It had to. If they only exchanged a few words tonight, fine. There was tomorrow night. The night after that. Shion looked forward to finding new recipes. He had points for the hotel. He had savings when his points ran out. He had time, all of his time was Nezumi’s, Nezumi could take it all, Shion had no other use for it.

            Shion took a sip of wine. Took another. Moved food around on his plate. It was not as good as Nezumi’s had been. Nothing ever would be as good as the meal Nezumi had made for him on New Year’s Eve.

            Abruptly, Shion’s eyes were burning. The feeling startled him. He ducked his head and blinked quickly. There was no reason for this. He reminded himself that there was no reason to be upset, that they had time, it would just take time. He composed himself. Looked up.

            Nezumi was still staring at him.

            _Lips are red. Stained with wine. Would taste like wine._

            Shion pressed his hands flat against the sides of the sink, careful not to hit his plate. He pushed down on the faux marble. Tried to think of something to say. Something to do.

            “Is that pie?” Nezumi asked. He was pointing, and Shion glanced around his shoulder as if he’d forgotten the pie he’d spent two hours preparing. Pitting the cherries. Letting the mix soak. Rolling the dough. Weaving the lattice. Checking the oven. Setting the timer. Watching the numbers count down, not wanting to leave the pie in too long, not wanting to let it overcook for a second.

            “Oh, yeah. That’s pie,” Shion confirmed, indeed looking at the pie he’d baked. “Cherry. Do you want a slice?”

            “Were you saving it for someone else?”

            “Who else would I be saving it for?” Shion asked, looking at Nezumi, who didn’t seem to think his own question was strange. Shion wondered if Nezumi was joking.

            Maybe he was joking. Shion felt jittery.

            _Nervous._

            Shion was cutting the pie and his hand nearly slipped. “I’m not nervous,” he told the pie.

            He had no reason to be nervous.

            “I didn’t say you were,” Nezumi replied.

            Shion needed a plate. He’d already forgotten which cabinet held the plates. He opened one. Glasses. Another. Plates. Pulled out two. Two slices of pie, one on each. Slid a plate to Nezumi, who didn’t look away from Shion.

            “Thanks.”

            “Sure,” Shion said. His voice sounded odd to his own ears. He cleared his throat.

            _This is incredible._

            “Thank you,” Shion said quietly. He took another sip of wine. Nearly chugged the rest of his glass but stopped himself. Carefully placed it back down. Half full. Half empty.

            When Nezumi finished his slice of pie, he stood up from his stool, and Shion followed him to the front door, watched him pull on the leather jacket, shrug it over his shoulders, reach back and release his hair from its collar.

            He contemplated Shion, who licked his lips, thinking about the wine stain.

            Nezumi’s own lips were a deep red. A vampire with his pale skin. Ironic, when Shion remembered one of the first thoughts Nezumi had ever had about himself in the shelves of a library – _Dracula._

            Shion slipped his hands in his pockets. Was about to thank Nezumi for coming when Nezumi’s thought interrupted him.

            _Terrified. He looks terrified._

            Shion’s exhale shuddered from his lips. He was not terrified. Heart in his throat. He had no reason to be terrified. Restless, maybe, if anything, but that wasn’t the same.

            “Are you going to give me a goodnight kiss?” Nezumi asked, and the words were so unexpected Shion almost forgot that Nezumi had accused him of being terrified – which he was not.

            “Do you want me to?” Shion asked.

            _Why do you think I’m still standing here?_

            Shion was not terrified. Not anymore. Had been, for only a second, but now he was at ease again, calm in Nezumi’s presence with Nezumi’s voice in his head.

            They were going to be okay. Everything would work out. Shion had not messed it up.

            He leaned forward. Was smiling a little, couldn’t help himself, when he kissed Nezumi. Didn’t part his lips but could still taste Nezumi’s lips, somehow. He must have parted his lips. Did it matter?

            Nezumi tasted of wine. Heavy, dark, the best amount of bitter.

            _Warm. Soft._

            Shion leaned back. He’d stood on his toes even though Nezumi was not that much taller. Even so, Shion had not wanted to miss.

            “Goodnight,” Shion said. It was a goodnight kiss. He had to say goodnight.

            Nezumi’s lips curled, half a smirk. “Goodnight.”

            The door had been closed behind the man for two minutes when Nezumi’s voice was in Shion’s head again. In the elevator? Lobby? Outside the hotel in weather too nice for the first days of November?

            _He tasted like wine._

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quoted book in this chapter:
> 
> Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapt today! and if you're wondering when this is gonna wrap up...i have no clue! i thought this one would be the last one, but it's not, so clearly i have no idea what's going on around here. anyway, please enjoy!

Shion spent the next three days in the city.

            He had dinner with Nezumi in his hotel room every night. They talked more, in the nights after the first. Talked the way they used to. Almost as if nothing was different but that things were different. They were in a hotel room rather than Nezumi’s apartment. Nezumi never slept over at this hotel room. They did not do more than kiss.

            They did kiss in other places than by the front door. On Thursday night, Nezumi helped Shion do the dishes before he left. He kissed Shion with suds on his hands and warm water that Shion felt seep into his hair.

            On Friday night, the wine opener broke. Nezumi stood next to Shion, fidgeting with it and attempting to fix it. He gave up on it and kissed Shion instead. His hands slid up the back of Shion’s shirt. The tips of his long fingers were cool.

            On Saturday, the grocery store was crowded. Shion got a migraine that he’d avoided the previous days by spending most of the day in his hotel room. He was starting to feel cooped up in it. Couldn’t help himself Saturday morning from walking around the city before going grocery shopping.

            In the seasonings aisle, Shion’s head throbbed. By the pasta, he felt a little dizzy. Beside the broccoli, Shion had to reach out, steady himself by gripping the dew-splattered produce display, wetting his hand and closing his eyes.

            Nezumi knocked on his hotel room door at five. He had a play that night, so Shion had bumped up the time to accommodate this. Shion forgot, after the development of his migraine, that he’d bumped up the time. He’d had to lie still under the thick duvet in the dark of his room when he got home until the throbbing stopped. Nothing was finished cooking, and Nezumi had to be at the theater at seven.

            Shion opened the door, flustered.

            _He’s pale._

            “Hi,” Shion said. “Sorry, nothing’s done yet, just give me – a half hour, probably, at most, maybe an hour, actually, I’m sorry.”

            Nezumi closed the door behind him before grabbing Shion’s wrist as Shion made for the stove.

            Shion let himself be pulled back in front of Nezumi. Let Nezumi look at him. Slightly narrowed eyes.

            “Are you okay?”

            _Don’t lie._

            Shion chewed the inside of his cheek. Released it. “I’m okay, I just had a headache earlier today, but I slept it off, I feel better, I really do.”           

            “Because you’re in the city.”

            “It’s fine, Nezumi. Let me finish cooking, you’ll have to go to the theater soon, I want you to eat something first.”

            Nezumi did not let go of Shion’s wrist.         

            _How did you spend a year in the city going to college?_

            “I didn’t leave my dorm very often,” Shion admitted.

            “You skipped lectures?”

            “I read my textbooks multiple times.”

            Nezumi let go of Shion’s wrist, but Shion did not move. “You shouldn’t be in the city. You should go home.”

            “I don’t want to go home. I don’t want that to be my home anymore. It isn’t my home anymore.” Shion stopped himself before he could say that Nezumi was his home, wherever he was was Shion’s home.

            Nezumi kept looking at Shion, his mind blank, and then he spoke. “Go home, Shion.”

            “That isn’t my – ”

            _You took the bus here, right?_

            “Nezumi, I’m not leaving until – ”

            “Go home,” Nezumi interrupted loudly, words over Shion’s, “and get your car. Drive back here, try to come at night when there’s less traffic, will you? Text me what day you’re coming back, and I’ll take off from the theater. You’ll show me the houses you took pictures of. I like the one by the mountains. We can go to that one first.”

            Shion felt a deep heat flare in his chest.

            _That smile._

            He hadn’t known he was smiling. Was tempted to touch his own lips to check. “Are you – are you sure?”

            Nezumi tucked his hair behind his ear. “Already told the landlord I wouldn’t be renewing the lease at the end of the year.”

            _Gotta live somewhere._

            “But – But I thought – I thought it would take longer,” Shion stammered.

            “What would take longer?”

            “Getting you to trust me again. Proving I don’t intend on changing my mind again.”

            _Are you going to change your mind again?_

            “No, of course not, but how can you trust that? You found where I lived, you came all the way to my hometown, you asked me to try to make it work, and I told you it didn’t make sense to try. How can you trust me so quickly?”

            Nezumi raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to convince me not to trust you?”

            Shion lifted his hands, didn’t know why he’d lifted them, dropped them again. “No. No, I just – I don’t understand.”

            Nezumi weaved his hand through his bangs, his fingers loose, falling out of his hair again quickly. “I thought you could read minds,” he said, after a moment. “That means you know everything.”

            Shion looked at the man in front of him. Stepped forward. Strung his fingers through Nezumi’s bangs that had already fallen back over his forehead. “Sometimes I can’t read your mind,” he said quietly.

            Nezumi looked at him with eyes that moved. A gaze flitting between Shion’s eyes like Nezumi was reading, like Shion’s features were nothing more than ink on paper, black on white, letters and words and a story there only Nezumi could see.

            “That’s because there’s nothing in my mind. I’m telling you everything I’m thinking. I’m telling you, Shion.”

            Shion’s hand slid from Nezumi’s bangs. Around his face. Cupped his cheek, pulled Nezumi down lower. Kissed him with an open mouth. Noses bumping. Foreheads touching.

            Nezumi thought of nothing but the kiss. Shion couldn’t remember why he hated reading minds.

*

Nezumi touched everything.

            Doors. The walls, long fingers trailing. Stovetops. Doorframes. Cabinets. Stooped down to touch electrical sockets. The corners where one wall met another. Furniture. Handles of the fridge. Tops of the freezers. Oven doors. A fireplace.

            “You’re touching everything,” Shion said, in the fifth house they walked through on the fourth day they looked at houses.

            Shion was not looking at the houses. He was looking at Nezumi. He was reading Nezumi’s mind. Absorbing everything in meticulous detail.

            “I’m not,” Nezumi said. His hand loosely grasped a curtain as he walked away from it, the fabric pulling until it was freed from his fingers.

            Shion chose not to argue.

            In the third house they walked through on the eighth day they looked at houses, Shion stood next to Nezumi in the bathroom. They looked at the mirror.

            “What do you think?” Shion asked Nezumi’s reflection in the mirror. It was their fifth time looking in this mirror. They’d returned to this house every day since the first time they’d discovered it. Shion knew this was the house they were going to live in. He could read it in Nezumi’s thoughts. He let Nezumi keep looking because Nezumi liked looking at houses.

            Nezumi found them fascinating. The different layouts, the shapes of the rooms, the colors of the refrigerators, the way some houses had stairs splitting up their tiny floorplans. These were the first houses Nezumi had ever walked into since his childhood home. He preferred them over apartments. He liked their front doors. He liked their windows. He liked the walls between their rooms, lacking in his own apartment in the city.

            The reflection of grey eyes met the reflection of Shion’s own gaze.

            “It’s all right,” Nezumi said.

            _I want it._

            The monthly mortgage would be a little more than double Nezumi’s rent, but he and Shion would be splitting it. In the end, it wasn’t much more expensive than where Nezumi was living – though of course, it was not in the city. Nezumi would have to commute. Shion had been giving him driving lessons. Nezumi had been the one to drive them out from the city that day. He had a driver’s test scheduled but couldn’t parallel park as yet and avoided studying the street signs for the written test.

            “Okay,” Shion said.

            “What do we do now? We have to tell the realtor, right?”

            “I already told the realtor.”

            “Told the realtor what?”

            “Someone else was thinking about it, I had to make sure we got it,” Shion said, watching Nezumi’s eyes narrow in the reflection.

            “What if I didn’t want it?”

            “You do want it, what’s the problem?” Shion asked. “Don’t argue just to argue.”    

            Nezumi’s disbelief was almost comical. “Are you kidding me? You’re the one who argues just to argue. You know that right? You do have an ounce of self-awareness, right?”

            “You’re arguing again,” Shion said, watching his own front teeth bite down on his smile in the mirror.

            “What did the realtor say?” Nezumi asked, after a moment.

            Shion turned away from the mirror. A reflection was not enough. He looked at Nezumi’s profile until Nezumi turned as well, grey eyes steady.

            _Red eyes. White eyelashes. Pink lips. Going to be living with this kid._

            Shion didn’t tell Nezumi not to call him a kid. Didn’t mind so much, when Nezumi’s thoughts were as fond as they were, almost tender, almost made Shion’s chest hurt.

“We can pick up the keys and move in on the first of January,” Shion said. “We’ll get the papers to sign later this week. I put down the security deposit already, just to make sure we got it.”

            _We got it?_        

            “It’s ours,” Shion confirmed, watching Nezumi carefully as Nezumi looked away from him, around the bathroom, then left the bathroom altogether.

            Shion followed, stopping at the bathroom doorway, watching Nezumi roam around, touching everything again, taking in everything again, his thoughts a list of details he’d gone over already that day, and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that.

            _Living room. White carpet. White walls. Smudge on wall. Half wall dividing living room and kitchen. Kitchen. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Twelve cabinets. Four drawers. Sink. Stove._

            Shion knew the entire house inside and out, but there was nothing he could do to stop Nezumi’s voice in his head. He didn’t want to stop Nezumi’s voice in his head. A list of kitchen appliances was incredible in Nezumi’s voice.

            Calming.

            Shion followed Nezumi around the house, keeping distance, giving Nezumi space to observe it all again, ending outside the back door, a door that led out their bedroom right into an expanse of backyard. The grass was long, swayed with the wind.

            Shion stepped out beside Nezumi. Their knuckles touched.

            _It’s ours?_

            When Shion looked at Nezumi, Nezumi was looking back at him. Almost confused. Crease between his eyebrows. Lips parted. Hair blowing around his face in the soft wind.

            It was cold. The first week of December. Shion shivered.

            He nodded at Nezumi. “Yeah.” His voice hardly left his lips.

            Nezumi almost looked helpless. It took Shion a moment to realize it wasn’t helplessness at all.

            Overwhelmed. Nezumi was overwhelmed. He glanced over his shoulder, away from Shion, at the house standing behind them, tiny and quaint, cute and old and in need of some repairing, but nothing too serious.

            Shion was content to look at Nezumi’s profile. Read his almost bewildered thought – not bewildered. Overwhelmed. Maybe not overwhelmed. Amazed. A combination. Just one word. It hovered in Shion’s head like a heartbeat.

            _Ours._

*

Nezumi’s driver’s license was shiny and smooth. Shion liked rubbing his thumb over its surface. Liked more to look at Nezumi’s photograph.

            “Give it back,” Nezumi said. He was driving. “It’s creepy that you look at it so much.”

            “I don’t look at it that much.”

            _Liar._

            The birth date listed as Nezumi’s was in fact Shion’s birthday. Nezumi did not know his birthday. He had not had any of the official documents required for an official driver’s license. His had been burned to ash. He’d never filed for new ones. But he knew someone at the theater who could forge them.

            “Why did you take my birthday?” Shion asked.

            “I couldn’t think of another date.”

            “There’s three-hundred sixty-four other dates, I’m sure you could have thought of one.”

            “Don’t hog your birth date, Shion, it’s nice to share.”

            Shion glanced out the window. The road was familiar. Shion had driven it frequently. Nezumi was taking them to Shion’s hometown. They were going to start packing Shion’s belongings. It was the third week of December.

            “It’s suspicious if we have the same birthday.”

            “Suspicious to whom?” Nezumi countered. He flicked on his turn signal. Slid the car into the lane beside theirs to pass the car in front of them.

            “You don’t have to go too fast,” Shion said.

            “I’m not going too fast.”

            “I know, but I’m just saying. People like to drive fast on the highway, but you don’t have to. Go at whatever speed you’re comfortable with.”           

            “I’m very comfortable. Are you comfortable?”

            _I can slow down._

            “I’m comfortable,” Shion confirmed, rubbing his thumb over the corner of Nezumi’s driver’s license, only a week old.

            It wasn’t a lie. He was comfortable. He trusted Nezumi with his life.

*

Shion’s bedroom above the bakery was crowded in cardboard boxes. Everything was packed but his bedsheets, kicked to the foot of the bed. Articles of clothing mixed with the sheets.

            Nezumi laid halfway over him. Was examining Shion’s fingers. Pressed Shion’s hand to his lips. Mouth against Shion’s palm. Dark hair shielded his eyes. His leg bent, toes skimming Shion’s calves.

            Nezumi’s lips fell to Shion’s wrist. The thin skin there. Pulse heavy underneath it.

            Shion breathed hard. Watched Nezumi kiss the inside of his elbow. Crease of skin.

            “Hey,” Shion said, while Nezumi bit softly into his shoulder.

            _What?_

            “Kiss me.”

            _I am._

            “Properly.”

            Nezumi surfaced from Shion’s shoulder. Parted lips. Scattered bangs. Color in his pale cheeks.

            _How about improperly?_

            Shion’s laugh was just a breath. “Yeah.”

            Nezumi kissed him with his mouth open. Shion’s mouth open as well. Hot breath. Teeth against lips. Hands in hair. Hips pushing hips. They were both naked. Nezumi ground his hips down harder. Shion dug his heels into the mattress where he’d slept as a child. It creaked lazily.

            “We have to be quiet,” Shion said against Nezumi’s lips, because Nezumi didn’t move far enough away to allow space between them.

            _No promises._   

            “Nezumi, my mom will hear.”

            Nezumi had moved his lips from Shion’s. Was biting Shion’s ear.

            _Let her hear._

            “That’s not – We can’t – ” Shion forgot what he was saying. Nezumi rocked against his body in a slow but steady rhythm. Shion exhaled so hard it almost hurt. “In the nightstand, Nezumi – ”

            Nezumi was already off of him. Reaching into the nightstand. Pulling out lube and tossing it to Shion.

            _I’ll keep it down, but be prepared. In our own place, I’m going to be extra loud._

            Shion was sitting up now. Nezumi sat up as well, legs tangled in his. “Promise?” Shion asked, a drop of lube on his palm, pausing to look at Nezumi, who looked at him in a startled way before a small smile melted his lips.

            _Sure. I promise._

            Shion kissed that smile to see what it tasted like.

*

Nezumi’s apartment was empty.

            Shion put his shoes on at the door, stood up to see Nezumi looking around at the small space where he had lived alone since he was fourteen. As much as he denied it, his home.

            Shion strung his fingers through Nezumi’s. “Ready?”

            It was the first day of the new year. They were going to drop off the keys to Nezumi’s apartment, then pick up the keys to their home. They were going to move into their house.

            _I never thought I’d leave here._

            Shion swiped his thumb over the back of Nezumi’s hand. Felt the bones beneath his skin, like bones of a bird. Delicate.

            “Will you miss it?”

            Nezumi looked at Shion. “What is there to miss?”

            _You are the only part of this apartment I care about._

            Shion had walked around the tiny apartment while Nezumi carried the last box to the car. He’d run his fingertips over the stove. He’d opened the mirror to reveal the cabinet, empty without the bottle of Advil bought for him. He’d stood where the bed had been – the bed they were taking to their house – and closed his eyes. Against his closed eyelids, he saw himself falling in love with Nezumi on that bed. In his own thoughts, he replayed it. The library. The rain. The coffee shop. His own apartment. And this one. This bed. Nezumi’s bed with two pillows even though there’d only been one the first few times Shion had come here.

            Shion would not miss the apartment. He would miss the memories it hosted. The beginning of the rest of his life.

            “Let’s go,” Nezumi said, pulling Shion’s fingers, and Shion followed him out the door.

            Shion locked the door behind them with the key in the crease of his palm. Given to him in a parking garage with a kiss too quick to count.

            He would never see Nezumi’s apartment again. But the moment Shion locked the door, it was no longer Nezumi’s apartment.

            It was just an apartment. And Shion had no more use for it.

*

There was a leak in the living room ceiling. They had known this, but it did not register until the second day around midday, when the rain started.

            It was a cold sort of rain. Alternated between rain and snow. Shion placed a bath towel under the pot Nezumi had unearthed from a box marked _Kitchen Stuff_ to catch the rain or snow.

            “We’ll have to get that fixed,” Shion said.

            _I can fix it._

            They stood on either side of the pot, looking up at the ceiling for the hole amongst the water stains. Stains the color of coffee.

            “You know how to fix a leaking ceiling?”

            “No. The internet probably does,” Nezumi said.

            Shion glanced into the kitchen. The microwave said they’d been looking up at the ceiling for fifteen minutes.

            “Well, I guess we should go back to unpacking.”

            _Guess so._

            Neither of them moved. Shion looked at Nezumi instead of the ceiling. The stretch of Nezumi’s neck with his chin turned up. Hands loosely in his pockets. Loose grey sweats. A band of his boxers visible above their waistband. The boxers were light blue. He did not wear a shirt. Unpacking was exhausting. Shion’s own t-shirt stuck to his back with sweat. Nezumi’s feet were bare. Toes touching the end of the bath towel Shion had laid out. Nezumi had over-sensitive feet. Abnormally ticklish. He got angry when Shion tried to tickle them.

            _You’re staring._

            Shion didn’t deny it. “I still can’t believe this is our house. Can you?”

            Grey eyes steady on Shion. Shion wanted them nowhere else.

            _What else is there to believe?_

            Shion looked down into the pot. They’d used it the night before to make pasta. The quick trickle of precipitation was rain now, though it’d been snow a minute before.

            “That it’s a dream.”

            “This isn’t the sort of thing I dream about,” Nezumi said.

            Shion didn’t have to ask Nezumi what he dreamed about instead. He knew. He shared all of Nezumi’s dreams. They were all memories. They were all nightmares.

            _Should we get back to unpacking?_

            “Yeah,” Shion agreed.

            Neither of them moved, and rain turned back to snow.

*

Shion woke to the bed empty beside him.

            He’d gone to bed after Nezumi. Stayed up in the kitchen watching lecture videos, then taking an exam he’d put off until the last minute.

            Shion was not someone who put things off until the last minute. He’d been distracted for three days. Unable to stop watching Nezumi cutting down the damaged drywall on a step ladder. They’d bought a saw. It was called a keyhole saw. Shion had watched Nezumi talk to the woman at the hardware store to discuss the best types of saws for cutting drywall and compare the notes he’d taken while reading internet articles on Shion’s phone about different saws for cutting drywall.

            The hardware woman was attracted to Nezumi. She talked about saws but thought about fucking him. Her thoughts were interesting and astonishingly detailed. Shion got a hard-on and pivoted to face the crown molding samples to hide it. Kept his head turned to read her thoughts. She knew positions Shion and Nezumi had not tried before. Shion introduced one that night, and Nezumi asked where he’d thought of that, and Shion had informed him it was the hardware lady who had thought of it.

            Nezumi had laughed so hard they’d fallen out of the position and Shion nearly sprained his ankle.

            After Nezumi cut the damaged drywall, wearing safety goggles that flattened his bangs against his forehead, he measured a piece of replacement drywall. They’d had to buy a measuring tape along with the piece of replacement drywall. Now, they had both a keyhole saw and measuring tape. Shion looked for cabinets where they could put these things to store them. He wondered if they should buy a toolbox. They also had a new utility knife and tub of wallboard joint compound. Shion liked having these things in their house. It made it feel like more of a house. More of their house, as they’d walked the shelves together, stood beside each other pointing at these items and placing them in their cart with a left back wheel that stuck.

            Shion had watched lectures in the kitchen at first, but he could see Nezumi above the halfwall and got distracted by the smudge of wallboard joint compound smeared on Nezumi’s cheek when he’d pulled his hair off his face into a bun.

            Shion moved to the bedroom, but was distracted by Nezumi’s thoughts as he struggled with the fine-grit sandpaper they’d also bought. Nezumi didn’t know if he’d sanded it enough. If he’d sanded it too much. He read articles on sanding online and the words of these articles in Shion’s head distracted Shion from the words of his lectures in his earbuds.

            Shion moved outside into their backyard through the back door that led out their bedroom. The air was cool, and he returned inside for a jacket. Nezumi used a roller to cover the new patch of drywall – sanded smooth and layered with a second thin coat of wallboard joint compound – with a paint that was both primer and paint in one. The hardware woman had recommended this combination paint while she thought about fucking Nezumi against a kitchen counter. Nezumi’s arms were sore from holding the roller above his head. He didn’t think his paint strokes were even. He wondered if the unevenness would be noticeable when it dried. Shion paused his lecture video and came back inside, dropping his laptop on their bed and going into the living room to sit on the couch and watch Nezumi paint uneven strokes and wait for Nezumi to finish painting so they could fuck against the kitchen counter.

            It was the morning of the sixth day in their new house. They no longer had a leak in their living room ceiling. They had a cabinet in the kitchen devoted to hardware supplies. Shion woke to an empty bed. Cool air flitted in, and Shion noted that the back door beside the dresser was slightly ajar.

            The back door didn’t close properly. They would have to return to the hardware store for supplies to fix it. Shion hoped they would see the same hardware woman so that Nezumi could talk to her about the articles he read online about fixing doors that didn’t close properly.

            The alarm clock on the nightstand – both items brought from Shion’s room above the bakery – told him it was nearly noon. Shion never woke up this late. Was startled by this time, but didn’t mind it so much. He’d gone to bed around four in the morning after finally finishing his exam. He wondered if he should take his jog now or wait until that afternoon.

            He got out of bed, left the bedroom. In the bathroom, he peed and brushed his teeth and left his hands under the warm water longer than he needed to. He returned to the bedroom. Rifled through the dresser that had been left from the previous occupants of the house and was now filled with their folded clothing. He picked out one of Nezumi’s sweatshirts and pulled it on. He pulled on socks. He walked out the back door and found Nezumi standing with a book in his hand. The book was not open. He was not looking at it. He was looking at the mountains and there was nothing in his thoughts.

            Shion walked next to him.

            _Shion._

            “Hi,” Nezumi said.

            “It’s cold out here,” Shion said, huddling closer to Nezumi. Nezumi wore a jacket.

            Nezumi lifted the side of his jacket, and Shion burrowed underneath it, into Nezumi’s side. His body was warm. Heat radiating.

            _How’d your exam go?_

            “I got an A.”

            _Show-off._

            “We should go to the hardware store today.”

            Nezumi hummed.

            _For the back door?_

            “You didn’t close it properly, you have to jam it if you want it to stay closed. Cold air got into the house,” Shion said.

            “I have a show tonight,” Nezumi said.

            It was Saturday. Shion had forgotten. Nezumi drove Shion’s car into the city when he left, leaving Shion stranded at their house. The house was far from the town. Shion liked this. He could not accidentally look out the window and read anyone’s thoughts. When Nezumi’s debt was paid off by the end of the year, they would start saving to buy him his own car.

            “When do you have to leave? It’s noon now.”

            “Not for a few hours. Get dressed and grab some toast, we’ll go to the hardware store and eat dinner together before I go.”

            Shion didn’t want to move. Against Nezumi’s side in the shelter of his jacket and arm was warm. The house was cold.

            _Go on._

            Nezumi nudged him. Pressed his lips to the top of Shion’s head.

            _Soft._

            “Why are you standing out here?” Shion asked quietly.

            _I like having a backyard._

            Shion stayed beside Nezumi for another minute, then went back into the house to get dressed and make toast to eat in the car while Nezumi drove them to the hardware store. They did not see the hardware woman from a few days before until they were checking out with supplies to fix the door.

            Shion was looking around, finally saw her standing a few aisles down, fixing a display of batteries. She was looking at Nezumi and wishing she had seen him earlier so she could have helped him with whatever his current repair was. She hoped the faucet in his house would drip so he would come back again and she could help him fix it.

            “Do you think the faucet drips?” Shion asked, while they headed back to the car.

            “What? Does it drip?”

            “No, but do you think it might start?”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “I like watching you fix stuff.”

            _Are you crazy?_

            “Remember the hardware lady who gave me that sex position idea? I saw her today. She likes when you come in.”

            They were in the car. Nezumi threw the bag of supplies into the backseat before buckling his seatbelt and sticking the keys in the ignition. Shion liked when Nezumi drove so he could take breaks from looking at people out the window whenever he wanted to rather than having to concentrate on the road.

            “Let me get this straight.” Nezumi peered over his shoulder to check that no one was behind them as he reversed the car out of its spot. “You want our faucet to start dripping so we have to come back here so that the hardware woman who thinks about fucking me can get to think about fucking me again?”

            “She had good ideas for positions.”

            “Is there something wrong with you? I’m asking this in concern for your well-being.”

            “And she likes to see you, it makes her happy. What, does it make you uncomfortable? I don’t know if you recall, but you were the one thinking about having sex with me when we first met, remember that? So it’s hypocritical to judge this lady.”

            “I’m not judging the lady, I’m judging you. You’re really something else.”

            Shion glanced out the window. The town where they lived was much different from the city. The sky at night was full of stars that Shion often found Nezumi looking at, drawn to windows when the sun set.

            “Do you like it here?” Shion asked.

            “The hardware store? Not enough that I want our faucet to drip. Seriously insane.”

            “No. Here. Where we live.”

            _Yes._

            “It’s not the city.” The drive from the hardware store to their house was almost a half hour. Shion watched the mountains outside his window looming into view.

            Nezumi didn’t say anything for a moment, and Shion thought he wasn’t going to. “I wasn’t born in the city.”

            Shion turned from the mountains. Traced the line of Nezumi’s profile.

            “You weren’t?”

            “I thought you knew that. Tokyo is an easier place to be homeless than a little village out in rural Japan. I could steal food and find shelter and blend in with other people in the city.”

            “But you like the city.”

            “It’s fine. It was good to me. Made surviving a little easier than it might have been. I got lucky with the theater, the owner is a good man. I wouldn’t have had that opportunity where I was born.”

             “So you don’t think you’d be acting if you never went to the city?” Shion asked. He couldn’t picture Nezumi doing anything else. Maybe repairing drywall. Going into different people’s houses. Fascinated with their floor plans and backyards. Fixing the leaks in their ceiling with wallboard joint compound smudged on his cheek.

            Nezumi let go of the wheel with one hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. “I don’t think in terms of what if – What if there hadn’t been that fire, what if I hadn’t been forced into the city, what if I’d never lived in the theater. The past is what happened and there’s no changing it whether I would want to or not, so it’s pointless to think like that. I like acting. I’m good at it. I don’t care to do anything else. The city was fine, it was what I needed at the time, but I like it here.”

            _I like the mountains. The stars seem familiar. I think I used to see them when I was young. I think I remember them._

            “Do you remember where you were born? Do you ever want to visit?”

            _I don’t remember. The air was crisp and we had hot summers. It could have been anywhere._

            “We could look one day. We could take road trips.”

            “I don’t care to chase after my past, Shion.”

            “We wouldn’t be chasing it. Just looking for it. Nostalgia isn’t a bad thing. There’s nothing wrong with memories, or missing people or places.”

            “There wouldn’t be anything left to look for,” Nezumi said, after a moment.

            _What if we find it and I remember everything?_

            Shion didn’t say anything. He didn’t think Nezumi’s thought was meant for him, but he could no longer be sure. It was an accidental thought, and that was clear to him, but he had begun to think that Nezumi wanted his accidental thoughts to be read just as much as his deliberate thoughts.

            Shion wouldn’t push Nezumi. He had a feeling Nezumi wanted to look for where he’d grown up, but it was a thought Nezumi suppressed. That was fine. They had time. Shion would wait for Nezumi to be ready.

            At home they made grilled cheeses and tomato soup. A quick meal because Nezumi had to get going soon, he had rehearsal before his night show. When he left, Shion baked. He was making samples of his favorite pastries to bring to the bakery in town. He had applied for a job as a baker to make money while he finished his degree, and they’d asked for samples. Shion would bring them in the next day when he had the car.

            It was not the life Shion had pictured for himself. He still did not know what he would do with his degree, how he would enter his field in a way that would allow him to work without getting headaches and at the same time not feel as if he was doing less than he should have been. In their small town, there were no nearby labs or research facilities. There was a small school with minimal resources. Shion did not think he was entirely upset about this, but he knew he had to figure something out, come up with a plan. He and Nezumi talked extensively about options. It was different than discussing his future with Safu, who thought in a very similar way to Shion.

            Nezumi’s thoughts were new. Unexpected. Shion felt possibility when they talked about his future career, rather than the previous restlessness.

            For now, Shion was excited at the prospect of bakery. He hoped he’d get the job. Nezumi told him hoping was a useless action. Of course he would get the job. Who could bake cinnamon buns like that?

            It was one in the morning when Nezumi got home. Shion was checking on a pumpkin pie in the oven.

            _Smells incredible in here, holy shit._

            There were Nezumi’s keys in the lock, and then Nezumi was stepping through the front door, shivering and closing the door quickly behind him, kicking off his boots.

            “You’re still up?”

            “How was your show?”

            “Good. For you.” Nezumi came into the kitchen, placed a heart-shaped box on the counter before dipping his finger into a container of icing.

            “Don’t do that.” Shion swatted Nezumi’s hand.

            “You made extra for me, right?” Nezumi asked, peering around at the baked goods that covered their kitchen.

            “No. What is this?” Shion picked up the heart-shaped box. It was filled with assorted chocolates.

            “Got it just for you. Happy Valentine’s day.”

            “It’s not Valentine’s day. Did a fan give this to you?”

            “I picked it out myself. The box reminded me of the color of your eyes.”

            “I thought you weren’t allowed to take stuff from the fans. What if it’s a psycho and they tried to drug you?” Shion asked, ripping off the plastic wrapping and examining the pamphlet inside the box that explained what chocolates had what inside of them.

            “Yes, I can see how concerned you are with being drugged,” Nezumi said dryly, picking up one of the chocolates. “If a fan gives it to me, it’s my chocolate, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be allowed to accept it.”

            “I thought you bought it especially for me.”

            “Where would you get that idea? Don’t be so cocky,” Nezumi replied, and Shion smiled as he watched Nezumi bite into a chocolate that Shion saw from the pamphlet was full of coconut.

            Nezumi hated coconut. He chewed for a moment, then opened mouth. His nose crinkled. “I hate it.”

            _Coconut? Dammit, I hate coconut._

            “Spit it out in the trash.”

            “It’s terrible.”

            _Who puts coconut in chocolate? Goddamn fan buying me coconut chocolate._

            “Just spit it out, why are you still eating it?” Shion laughed.

            Nezumi leaned over the trash and spit it out. “Give me a good one.”

            Shion picked out a chocolate with a cherry filling inside and offered it to Nezumi, who scrutinized it before tossing the entire thing into his mouth.

            He looked ridiculous chewing it, his cheeks full. Shion watched him, amused. The timer went off.

            “Was tha fo?”

            “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

            _What’s that for?_

            “Pumpkin pie.”

            _I want some._

            “Go to bed, Nezumi.”

            _You go to bed._

            “The pumpkin pie is the last thing. I’ll be there in a minute.”

            _I want pie._

            “Have another chocolate, here, this has caramel in it, you’ll like that. Take it and leave the kitchen, you’re crowding me.”

            Nezumi took the chocolate and left the kitchen.

            In twenty minutes, Shion had packed the pastries to bring to town the next day and filled their fridge, having to move aside eggs and orange juice and bread and a Tupperware of leftover chicken to make room. He cleaned the kitchen, then went to the bathroom, took a shower and brushed his teeth in the shower, got out and peed and went to the bedroom where Nezumi appeared to be asleep.

            Shion pulled on a clean pair of boxers and slipped into bed beside him. Nezumi stirred. Rolled over. Peeked at him, eyes squinting.

            “You kept at least a portion of each thing you made separate for me, right?” he asked groggily.

            Shion slipped his leg between Nezumi’s. “No. Go back to sleep.”

            “Seriously?”

            “Nezumi, I can’t bring them a fraction of a pie. I bake stuff for you all the time.”     

            _Liar._    

            “I saved three cinnamon buns for you and some cookies.”

            Nezumi contemplated Shion with heavy eyes. “How many cookies?”

            Shion laughed quietly. “I don’t know. A good amount.”

            “What’s a good amount?”

            “Enough for you to stop complaining.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Very sure.”

            “Okay. Good.” Nezumi closed his eyes.

            _Want to have sex. Too tired to move. What about you?_

            “I’m tired too,” Shion said softly. He closed his eyes as well, relieved that he could read Nezumi’s thoughts without looking at the man.

            _You could jerk me off._

            Shion laughed, startled, opening his eyes again to look at Nezumi’s closed eyelids. “Are you serious?”

            _I’ll do you tomorrow, I’m too tired to move._

            “I’m not going to give you a hand job right now. Go to sleep.”

            _Why not?_

            “I’m tired too, I just told you.”

            _You’re not as tired as me._

            “Nezumi, stop talking.”

            _I’m not talking._

            “If you go to sleep I’ll leave out some brownies for you.”

            _Goodnight._

            “Goodnight, Nezumi.”

            Shion closed his eyes. He was no longer tired, but was happy to stay awake. Lying beside Nezumi, listening to Nezumi’s breaths stretch out, longer, longer.

*

It was a night in late February that Shion dreamt of a dark-haired girl.

            She picked flowers out of her hair. She had not woven in the flowers. The small stems had been slipped into the curves of her braid as she’d slept without her notice. When she laughed, it was with a wide-open mouth. A booming, startling sound, too big for the small body it came from.

            Shion felt for her so much love it wracked his body. He woke gasping. A laugh of his own tickled his lips. He’d only just been about to offer it to the girl. He wanted to fall back asleep. Dream of her again. Laugh with her.

            Nezumi’s body shifted against Shion’s. Shion blinked him into focus. The same dark hair. The same grey eyes. The same thin lips that long fingers were touching, faintly. Nezumi breathed hard against their tips.

            _My sister. That was my sister._

            Shion knew this. He nodded against his pillow. “She has an amazing laugh.”

            This was the first dream Shion had ever received from Nezumi. The first break in his string of nightmares. The first memory of Nezumi’s past that didn’t wake them both shaking and breathless, Nezumi with eyes that were wet.

            “Yeah,” Nezumi agreed. His eyes were wet even though it hadn’t been a nightmare.

            _I never dreamt of her before._

            Shion nodded again. He knew this too. He shared all of Nezumi’s dreams.

            _I used to pick flowers and sneak them in her hair when she slept._

            When Nezumi blinked, water dislodged from the corner of his eye by the bridge of his nose. It hesitated, then slipped over the bridge, not making it around, falling on the pillow like a single drop of rain.

            Shion did not need Nezumi to explain. He had been there. He had been Nezumi, in the dream. He had watched his sister picking flowers out of her hair that he’d put there while she slept. That he’d chosen carefully, scouring the grass. Only picking the good ones. The ones with all their petals. The yellow and white ones but not the ones that had browned in the sharp sun.

            _She would pretend to be annoyed at having to pick them out._

            There was another tear on Nezumi’s cheek. Shion reached out to touch it with his thumb before it could fall, disappear into the fabric of the pillowcase.

            _She wasn’t really annoyed, though._

             Nezumi closed his eyes. Drops of water caught in his eyelashes. Long, curled.

            _What if I dream of her again?_

            Nezumi’s thought was terrified. Shion shifted closer to him. Their bodies pressed. Nezumi’s hand, caught between their chests, reached out. Fingers grasping Shion’s t-shirt. Their grip loose.

            “I’ll be right here,” Shion whispered.

            _Stay._

            “I will.”

            _Stay._

            Shion closed his eyes. Shifted. His cheek on Nezumi’s pillow now. Cool under his skin from the tears that had soaked into the fabric. He touched his forehead to Nezumi’s.

            “I’ll stay,” Shion promised.

            _Shion._  

            They fell back asleep at the same time, their exhales tangling.

*

Nezumi had been reading beside Shion until Shion told him he needed to stop reading or he would never be able to focus on his lecture.

            Nezumi put down his book. Shion’s laptop was on his lap, earbuds in his ears. Nezumi reached over, tapped the space bar of Shion’s laptop to pause the video, pulled the earbuds free from Shion’s ears, unplugged them from the laptop and threw them on the carpet. Took the laptop from Shion’s lap, placed it instead on the coffee table in front of the couch. Settled back on the couch, closer to Shion than before. Folded his long legs on Shion’s lap.

            Shion said nothing while Nezumi carried all of this out, waiting for Nezumi to settle before objecting. “Nezumi, I have to watch that today.”

            “Oh, sorry.” Nezumi reached out, leaning over so he could tap the space bar again. The video started playing, the lecture drifting into the room with Shion’s earbuds unplugged.

            “I have to pay attention.”

            “Then pay attention.”

            “You’re basically on top of me.”

            “I’m not going to do anything, I just want to sit like this. Watch your video, you’re missing stuff.”

            “What are you going to do?” Shion didn’t trust Nezumi not to start making out with him. Shion didn’t have time to make out. He kept falling behind on his work. Living with Nezumi was proving difficult.

            “I’m going to watch the lecture. I’m trying to, at least. You keep talking over it.”

            “Fine, just don’t distract me.”

            Nezumi shifted his legs over Shion’s. His knees were bent. Shion peered over them to see his laptop screen.

            Nezumi didn’t say anything. Shion could tell he was paying attention to the video because his thoughts were in reaction to the lecture, such as four minutes in –

            _Is that really what a heart looks like?_

            Shion didn’t mind Nezumi’s thoughts. They weren’t constant and did not distract from the content of the lecture. Mostly repetitions of the larger words the professor said, like Nezumi was sounding them out, trying to memorize them for future use, as if he planned on conversing on the cardiovascular system at some future point. Shion liked the slow repetitions, the careful pronunciations in Nezumi’s thoughts. They were words Shion had read countless times, studied repeatedly, long assimilated into his vocabulary, but he almost felt as if he was listening to another language every time Nezumi’s thoughts shaped around one of them.

            At the end of the lecture, Shion glanced at Nezumi.

            “Want to watch another?”

            Nezumi shrugged.      

            _Why not?_

            With Shion’s instruction, Nezumi reached out again to the laptop on the coffee table. They’d found the coffee table at a garage sale two days before. Shion gave Nezumi the option of three lectures he had to watch to choose from. Nezumi chose _Nervous system II: Spinal cord and spinal nerves._ He settled back against Shion after pressing play, and together they watched with eager anticipation, like they were watching a movie. A first date.

*

Shion was squeezing lemons when Nezumi started reading.

            _I was no sooner certain of this than I began to feel sick, faint, and terrified._

            Shion could not be sure where Nezumi was reading. He might have been at home. In the living room. Standing in the backyard the way he did. On the bed. He might have been at the library, though he didn’t frequent the local library often. He liked the one in Tokyo better, and stopped in when he was in the city for a show or rehearsal. He might have been at the park. The ice cream shop beside the park. Anywhere.

            _The hot blood was running over my back and chest._

            Shion poured the lemon juice from its measuring cup into a bowl. Added eggs and sugar. Whisked the mixture with the side of a fork.

            _The dirk, where it had pinned my shoulder to the mast, seemed to burn like a hot iron; yet it was not so much these real sufferings that distressed me…_

Sifted flour together with baking powder. The timer went off. Shion opened the oven door, pulled out the crust.

            _…it was the horror I had upon my mind of falling from the cross-trees into that still green water beside the body of the coxswain._

            Added the flour and baking powder to the egg mixture. Stirred. Set a timer for the crust to cool. There was a window from the back kitchen into the front room. Shion usually kept it hidden with its pink curtain so as not be distracted by the thoughts of customers while he baked.           

            _I clung with both hands till my nails ached, and I shut my eyes as if to cover up the peril._

            The bakery was called Sunshine & Cupcakes. There was more on the menu than cupcakes. Shion introduced even more additional items, prepared them for the owner of the bakery to taste before they were inevitably added to the menu. He had introduced eight new items since he’d started at the bakery six weeks before.

            _Gradually, my mind came back again…_

            The kitchen was bigger than his mother’s bakery kitchen. There were two ovens. There were two sinks. There was another baker, but she was rarely there now that Shion was. It was her grandfather’s bakery. She had no interest in baking and did it out of obligation. Her thoughts, when Shion saw her, were mostly full of her new boyfriend. He was American. His name was Clyde, and he had lemon-yellow hair.

            _…my pulses quieted down to a more natural time…_

            The timer went off. Shion poured the mixture over the cooled crust. Replaced the pan in the oven. Set the timer. Went to the window and peeked out at the customers in the front room.

            _…and I was once more in possession of myself._

            Nezumi sat at a table by the window. He leaned his cheek on his palm, his elbow on the table. A book beside his elbow. One long finger on the page, skimming the words like they were written in braille.

            Lifted his finger. Lifted the book. Flipped the pages. Stopped again. Book back on table. Finger back on page.

            _The bar silver and the arms still lie, for all that I know, where Flint buried them; and certainly they shall lie there for me._

            Shion closed the curtain over the window. Glanced at the timer. Twenty-three minutes and thirty-six seconds left. He left the kitchen. Didn’t pull off his apron and realized this only after he was in the front of the bakery.

            _Oxen and wain-ropes would not bring me back again to that accursed island…_

            At Nezumi’s table, Shion sat down. Nezumi didn’t look up.

            … _and the worst dreams that ever I have are when I hear the surf booming about its coasts, or start upright in bed, with the sharp voice of Captain Flint still ringing in my ears: ‘Pieces of eight! pieces of eight!’_

            Nezumi closed the book. “What are you baking?”

            “Lemon bars.”

            “Can I have one?”

            “They’re not done yet.”

            “When will they be done?”

            “Around twenty-two minutes.”

            Nezumi sighed heavily. Dramatically. “Well, I already finished my book.”

            “You skipped pages.”

            “I’ve read it before.”

            “Why do you reread books?”

            _I like knowing what happens in the end._

            Shion leaned back in his chair. “Well, reread it again, you’ve got some time to wait.”

            Nezumi rested his cheek back against his palm. “When will you be done today?”

            “I might make a few pies before I leave. Did you come straight from rehearsal?”

            “Yeah.”

            The bell rang signaling the entrance of another customer. Shion watched a little boy run in ahead of his mother.

            _Chocolate chip cookies!_

            “What’s he thinking?” Nezumi asked.

            “About cookies.”

            _He’s cute._

            It was Nezumi’s thought, not the little boy’s. Shion glanced quickly at him.

            “What?” Nezumi asked.

            “You like kids,” Shion said.

            “Not at all.”

            _I just thought he was cute, don’t overreact._

            “I’m not overreacting.”

            “It’s his jacket. The hood looks like a penguin. Anyone would think that was cute.”

            The mother came in more slowly. She was holding a little girl in her arms. The little girl was asleep. She had dark hair and also wore a jacket with two large eyes and a beak on its black and white hood.

            _Sleeping. Cute._

            “You think she’s cute too,” Shion whispered. It sounded like an accusation. Maybe it was.

            “Calm down,” Nezumi whispered back. Shion didn’t know why they were whispering.

            “I am calm.”

            “A lot of people think kids are cute.”

            “You just said you didn’t like kids.”

            “I don’t. They’re terrible,” Nezumi confirmed, but his eyes slipped from Shion’s gaze, fell over his shoulder.

            Shion glanced around. The boy was trying to figure out which cookie he wanted. His mother had said only one. He liked chocolate chip best, but the triple chocolate cookies were bigger. Interrupting the kid’s debate –

            _Does Shion want kids? Do I? It’s too early to talk about it. Should we talk about it? We’re too young. I can’t raise a kid. Shion would be a good dad. Piggy-back rides._

            “I don’t know if I want kids,” Shion said. “I haven’t thought about it too much.” A lie. Shion did want kids. He had thought about it.

            “Don’t read my mind.”

            “I can’t help it.”

            “Read their minds.”

            “I am, but your voice is louder in my head.” Another lie. It wasn’t louder. Shion just picked it out more easily. It was familiar. Easier to untangle from the others.

            _So annoying._

            “I think you’d be a good dad too.” Shion still looked at the kids. Paid more attention to them. The little girl had been woken by her brother. Squirmed. Her mother placed her down and she tottered to the display case, hands flat against the glass. Her brother pulled her hood over her head. She turned into a penguin. It was a cute jacket.

            _Liar._

            Shion looked away from the penguin jacket. Nezumi was looking at him now. Eyes only just narrowed. Hardly noticeable. Shion noticed anyway.

            “I’m not lying.”

            “Doesn’t matter, I’m not interested in having this conversation now,” Nezumi said easily.

            _You think I’d be a good father? No, you don’t. I wouldn’t._

            “Why not?” Shion asked.

            “Do recall, we’ve only been living together for three months. You’re being a bit preemptive.”

            “I mean why don’t you think you’d be a good dad?”

            _Because I wouldn’t._

            “Why not?” Shion asked again. Nezumi hadn’t given a reason.

            “Drop it, Shion. I came for lemon bars and no other reason.”

            “You didn’t even know I was making lemon bars until I told you.”

            _Drop it._

            “Okay, it’s dropped. I have to go check on the lemon bars anyway,” Shion said, getting up from the table.

            Nezumi’s mind was silent until Shion was back in the kitchen, glancing at the timer to see the lemon bars still had ten minutes left.

            _Cute. Two is a good number. Or three. Too many. Just one maybe. What if she’s lonely? Or he. There’s adoption. Can’t be a father. Shion would be good at it. Responsible. Loving. Make sure they did their homework. Ate vegetables. Would read to them at night in funny voices. Tuck them in. Comfort them if they had nightmares. They could slide into our bed. Cold little feet. We could take care of them._

            Nezumi’s thoughts were so quick Shion had a hard time making out the individual words. They melded together. People could think faster than they could speak.

            _We’re too young. Shion wants kids? Does he? Don’t know. What if he does? Can’t think about this. He’d make them soup if they got sick. Shion’s red eyes. Possible. Surrogates. Genetic? Karan doesn’t have them._

            When the timer went off, Shion did not notice immediately. When he did, he forgot oven mitts, reached in with bare hands, only noticed just in time and snatched his hands back as he was about to touch the pan.

            Pulled on oven mitts. Pulled out the pan. Had to let it cool before sifting on a thick coat of confectioner’s sugar. Before cutting it in small squares.

            _We could talk about it. What if we talked about it? Is it too soon to talk about it? It’s just talking. Wouldn’t mean anything. Just talking. Just to talk. To see what he would say. What would he say? It’s too early anyway. Shouldn’t be thinking about it. Stupid to think about. Stop thinking about it. Wait – is he reading this? Shion? You’re not reading my mind right now. Are you? I’ll kill you. Are you reading this? I swear, Shion, if you are, I’ll be fucking pissed._

            Shion washed the bowls and mixing utensils he’d used for the lemon bars while they cooled. Warm water. Than cool water. Nezumi’s thoughts stopped abruptly in his head. Thickly silenced.

            Shion cleared the history on his phone after each time he researched adoption agencies. Nezumi liked to use Shion’s phone for internet since his own phone could only make calls. Shion was just doing preliminary research anyway. He liked to research. He had always researched. Just to look for what agencies liked to see. Steady jobs. Stable parents. Marriage was beneficial. Same-sex marriages were not legalized all over Japan. Union certificates were becoming more common under a few governments. Shion cleared his internet history whenever he researched the strides made by the LGBT community as well.

            It was too early. Shion did not want a child right now. But right now was not the rest of his life. Right now was not three years. Right now was not five years. Shion liked to be prepared. They were only twenty-three, but they would be older. They would want more.

            When Shion finished for the day, Nezumi was not in the front of the bakery. Shion found him at home, standing in front of the sink, turning on and off the faucet.

            _Shion did this._

            “What did I do?” Shion closed the front door behind him. Toed off his shoes. Stood beside Nezumi in the kitchen.

            “The faucet is dripping.”

            “I didn’t do that.”

            “You made a confession weeks ago.”

            “It’s an old faucet. It started leaking on its own. I have nothing to do with it.”

            “You broke it, you’re fixing it.”

            “I didn’t break it.” It wasn’t a lie. Shion hadn’t broken it. He was not particularly unhappy that it was leaking. It had been a while since they’d gone to the hardware store.

            _Liar._

            “Guess we should go to the hardware store tomorrow. Do you want to go before or after your rehearsal?”

            “I’m not going to the hardware store. That would be rewarding your bad behavior. What are you going to break next?” Nezumi turned off the faucet. It was quiet for half a minute, then dripped twice in a row. Quickly.

            “I didn’t break the faucet. I wouldn’t know how to break a faucet.”

            Nezumi watched him with narrowed eyes but didn’t argue.

            Shion held out a to-go container from the bakery. “I brought you lemon bars.”

            Nezumi’s eyes narrowed further. “Why did you do that?”

            “You wanted lemon bars but were gone by the time they finished.”

            _Were you reading my mind?_

“When?”

            _You know when._

            “When you were thinking about lemon bars? Yes, I was reading your mind.”

            “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

            “Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nezumi. Do you want them now or should I put them in the fridge?”

            “You felt guilty and brought me lemon bars.”

            “Why would I feel guilty?” Shion decided to put them in the fridge. It allowed him to look away from Nezumi.

            _You know why._

            “I don’t know why. You’re being cryptic.”

            “Sometimes I need privacy. Do you understand that? You had no right to read my mind. You have no right to know what I think about kids. I don’t even know what I think about kids. You don’t get to know before I do.”

            Shion put the lemon bars on top of the carton of eggs. Faced Nezumi again, closing the fridge. Nezumi did not sound angry, necessarily. Stern, maybe. Demanding.

            “I can’t help that I can read your mind. You know that.”

            Nezumi’s hand was in his bangs. Long fingers. Dark hair.

            “I don’t want you to know what I think about kids.”

            “It’s okay if you want them.”

            “Shion, I’m serious. It’s not your business. If I don’t tell you it means I don’t want you to know.”

            “You can suppress your thoughts.”

            “I don’t want to suppress my thoughts! I’m trying not to do that anymore! I need to be able to think about shit like kids, but I can’t have you in my head while I’m doing that!”

            Shion opened his lips. No sound came out. He hadn’t known that Nezumi was trying to stop suppressing his thoughts. He didn’t know that it was a conscious decision _not_ to suppress thoughts. It made sense. Nezumi had been suppressing his thoughts since he was a child. It would be natural. It would take a conscious effort not to.

            “I’m sorry,” Shion said quietly. “I wish I could stop.”

            Nezumi cursed under his breath.

            _I know you can’t stop. I shouldn’t have said that._

            “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to read minds. I know you need privacy, I know that, I’m sorry,” Shion said. He was looking at their floor. The kitchen had wood floors. Shion liked the wood. Better than linoleum.

            “Shion. Shit.”

            _I was frustrated. I don’t care that you can read my mind. Don’t feel guilty. Don’t apologize. I don’t want you to apologize._

            “I’m sorry,” Shion said.

            Nezumi’s hand was on his cheek. Tilted his face up. Shion had to look at him. Careful grey eyes. Heavy. Serious.

            “Don’t be sorry. Shion. Don’t be sorry for reading my mind.”

            “You wish I couldn’t.”

            “No, I don’t.”

            “Why wouldn’t you? I know it must be annoying, I can’t imagine how violated you must feel,” Shion insisted. He felt it. Terrified. What he’d been worried about. What he’d feared. Nezumi was a private person, and anyone would hate this. No one would want to live with a mind reader. Who could stand that?

            _I don’t feel violated. I feel relieved. I’m relieved that you read my mind._

            “Relieved?”

            _Don’t apologize._

“You feel relieved?”

            Nezumi’s hand fell from Shion’s cheek. Caught on Shion’s jacket as it fell. By the zipper. Pulled Shion forward. Shion stepped against Nezumi’s body. Nezumi’s nose rustling his hair. Nezumi’s lips by his hairline.

            _I’m sorry I said that. Don’t be worried. I didn’t mean it._

            “Do you really feel relieved?” Shion asked, into Nezumi’s shoulder. Let himself sink into Nezumi’s chest. The man was warm.

            _Yes._

            Shion’s smile was hidden in Nezumi’s neck. The faucet dripped twice, quickly.

*

Nezumi spent most of the summer reading on the long grass of the backyard. They’d bought a lawnmower, but didn’t use it often. Nezumi liked when the grass was long. It reminded him of his childhood. He had not told Shion this. He had thought it in the early morning when Shion was still in bed and Nezumi stood in the back doorway, looking out at the mountains while Shion looked at his profile.

            “We could get chairs,” Shion said on a morning in June, bringing Nezumi a glass of water because it was hot and he worried that Nezumi would dehydrate. He’d already forced Nezumi to slather on sunscreen. Worried about that pale skin, paper-white.

            Nezumi sat cross-legged on the grass. “I like the grass.”

            “For when it gets colder. Or if it rains. You don’t want to sit in wet grass.”

            “If it’s cold why would I sit outside?”

            “You stand outside in the cold all the time.”

            “And I’m content to do so. Chairs are unnecessary.”

            “Okay, okay. It was a suggestion.” Shion turned back to the house, but Nezumi caught his wrist. Looked up at Shion from where he sat.

            “Where are you going?”

            _Stay out here with me. I’ll read to you._

            “I have to study before I go to the bakery.”

            “Study out here.”

            “You’ll distract me with your reading.”

            “You can still read my mind from inside the house.”

            Shion had no argument for this. It was true. He’d spent the last hour looking at his paused lecture video and listening to Nezumi’s voice in his head. Calming.

            _Should I stop reading?_

            “You can read my textbook,” Shion offered, smiling in a way he hoped was sweet and gently coercing.

            “Bring it outside,” Nezumi said.

            “Really?”

            _Yes, go get it._

            Shion ran back inside, his wrist released from Nezumi’s long fingers. Grabbed his textbook. Brought it outside and sat with Nezumi, opening it to the right page.

            Nezumi’s voice spilled into his head. Shion settled beside him. Long grass tickled his legs. He was glad they didn’t have chairs and that the lawnmower sat, unused, at the side of the house.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quoted book in this chapter:
> 
> Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson


	8. Chapter 8

The problem was that Nezumi loved to read.

            At first, he agreed to read Shion’s textbooks. Shion learned about yeast genome inheritance and organization in the shower. Lytic phages while he vacuumed. Mutant hunts and cloning genes when he couldn’t put it off any longer and mowed the lawn. The genomic toolbox for the model eukaryote while he caulked the edges of the tub.

            Nezumi’s willingness to read Shion’s textbooks was not everlasting. He traded chapters for sexual favors. Numbers of pages for minutes of back massages. Shion gave him a strip tease to two songs of Nezumi’s choice for a full day of Nezumi sitting in Sunshine & Cupcakes and reading in the front room while Shion baked in the back.

            The bargains did not last either.

            “You can read when I’m in the bakery,” Shion said, attempting to hold _Macbeth_ out of Nezumi’s reach. He was shorter, and Nezumi quickly snatched the scriptbook back, pinning Shion against the fridge.

            “We have to come up with a compromise,” Nezumi said. It was August. Nezumi was tired of reading textbooks, a point very clear to Shion.

            _I’m tired of reading textbooks._

            “Nezumi, I can’t study if you’re reading different material than what I’m reading! There’s no way to get your voice to leave my head. That’s not my fault.”

            “It’s not my fault either.”

            “You don’t have to read. I have to study.”

            “I have to memorize scripts! That is my occupation, you are aware of that, right? How exactly does your schooling take priority over the actual money I’m making?”

            Shion slid out from between Nezumi’s arm and the fridge. “That’s not fair. I work at the bakery. I’m supporting us too, we’re equal in this.”

            “Right, because your salary is equal to mine.” Nezumi placed his scriptbook on the counter.

            Shion crossed his arms. “Actually, it’s more, seeing as you’ve got a debt.”

            “That’ll be paid off by the end of the year, and then I’ll be making quadruple what you are, easily more than that.”

            “I’m going to school! The bakery is temporary.”

            “I don’t care if you work at the bakery, Shion, but your studying doesn’t take priority over my job. What, your studies take precedence cause I’m just a lowly actor? The arts aren’t as important as your scientific nonsense? Who even gives a shit about eukaryotes? How is that relevant to anything?”

            “Eukaryotes are the foundations of human life, of course they’re relevant!” Shion shouted back.

            When Nezumi read at night, Shion would be kept awake by the voice in his head. When Nezumi drove to the library to read, Shion would hear him still, however many miles away he was. Distance did not affect the clarity of his thoughts in Shion’s head. Nothing did. There were no rules.

            “I don’t see how eukaryotes and the digestive system and whatever else you’re making me read over my actual scripts are relevant to us. As long as I’m supporting us, my reading takes precedence,” Nezumi countered.

            “You’re not supporting us.”

            “I will be after my debt is paid off. Unless you keep refusing to let me do my job, of course, then I’ll be fired and you can study however much you want.”

            “You’re being an asshole!” Shion shouted, looking for something to slam, but the fridge door was closed and so were all of the cabinets. Shion appeased himself by shoving Nezumi’s scriptbook off the counter and stalking out of the kitchen.

            He went to their bedroom, through it, and slammed out the back door, only because he knew the backyard was where Nezumi liked to be, and he wanted to piss Nezumi off.

            _Completely ridiculous! Thinks his shit is more important than mine, fine, I’m not studying to be a fucking doctor or to cure cancer or whatever the hell he’ll end up doing, but fuck him. I’m not reading his stupid textbooks anymore, that’s not my responsibility, it’s not my problem he has to listen to everyone’s thoughts –_

            Shion went back to the back door, wrenched it open so that he could shout through the house – “I can’t help that I can read your mind!”

            “Stop reading my mind if you’re just going to argue with my thoughts!” Nezumi shouted back.

            “I can’t stop reading your mind, I just said that, are you deaf?” Shion yelled, slamming the back door again.

            _So immature –_

            Shion opened the back door not a second after he slammed it. “Don’t call me immature!”

            “I didn’t call you anything!”

            _Immature!_

            “Shut up!” Shion slammed the door again.

            _Will you stop slamming the goddamn door before I have to fix it again?_

            It felt entirely unfair to Shion that he had to read Nezumi’s thoughts when they fought. Nezumi always had the last word. His thoughts were not always very kind, but when Shion called him out on them, Nezumi hid behind the excuse that he couldn’t help his thoughts. It was Shion’s fault for reading them when he knew they were fighting and when they fought it was only natural for Nezumi to think Shion was being a goddamn nuisance – it wasn’t like Nezumi would ever say something like that out loud, it couldn’t count.

            _Kid’s being a goddamn nuisance._

            Shion ground his teeth together. Fighting did not encompass their entire coexistence, but it was not rare. Became more common as the months passed. The novelty of living together fell away. The giddiness of their new house with its quirky need for repairs dissolved. Nezumi suppressed less and less of his thoughts, and they become more and more constant in Shion’s head. Perpetual. Shion rarely had a break from that voice, a voice he loved, but he had not thought about what it would be like to live with Nezumi.

            Nezumi’s thoughts unceasing. His mind still quieter than anyone else’s Shion had read, but Shion had never lived with someone he couldn’t look away from to silence their thoughts. Nezumi’s thoughts intruded on him. There was no turning them off at will. There was no control over when they would occur.

            Shion knew, of course, that the reverse was true as well. None of Nezumi’s thoughts were safe from him. Nezumi had no privacy.

            They had thought they knew what they were getting into.

            Shion did not return inside the house until Nezumi left for the rehearsal before his night show. It was Saturday. Shion was asleep when he came back, woken by sounds from the bathroom beside the bedroom. The alarm clock on the nightstand said it was past one in the morning.

            Shion rolled over. Looked at the ceiling while his eyes adjusted until Nezumi was in the room.

            _Sleeping?_

            Nezumi shuffled around, then slipped into bed.

            _Awake._

            “Did I wake you?”

            “No,” Shion lied.

            “Sorry.”

            “I was awake.”

            _He’s lying._       

            Shion closed his eyes and turned onto his side, not facing Nezumi. “Did you have a good show?”

            “Yeah. Let’s just go to sleep, it’s late,” Nezumi said.

            _He’s tired. I woke him._

            “I’m fine,” Shion said.

            “Goodnight,” Nezumi said.

            _Are we still fighting?_   

            Shion didn’t reply. The thought was accidental, so he didn’t have to answer it.

*

On a Sunday morning in September Shion woke wanting to have sex.

            Nezumi was not in bed. He woke before dawn sometimes, as he never had in the city. He liked the mountains in the early morning.

            Shion peed and went to the backyard, where Nezumi stood holding a book, not reading. He knew reading would wake Shion. Sometimes he read in the mornings anyway.

            “Hey,” Shion said.

            _Morning._

            “Want to have sex?”

            Nezumi glanced at him. His smirk lazy. Behind him, the sky was too many colors to count.

            _Always._

            “Come.” Shion pulled his wrist, but Nezumi didn’t move.

            “How about out here?”

            “The grass is long again.”      

            “So?”

            “There could be bugs in it.”

            “Go get a blanket.”

            Shion got a blanket.

            Nezumi took two corners, and Shion the other two. They spread the blanket carefully, stepped onto it and looked at each other.

            Both of them had bare feet. Nezumi liked to stand in the backyard without shoes or socks. It made him think of his childhood. He had not told Shion this. He had thought it at midday while Shion squeezed oranges for fresh orange juice. Shion had always wanted to make fresh orange juice. When he’d brought a glass out for Nezumi, standing bare foot in the long grass and thinking that it reminded him of his childhood, Nezumi had told him the fresh squeezed juice was incredible. In his thoughts, he preferred store-bought orange juice. So did Shion. They pretended the juice Shion had squeezed was the best they’d ever tasted.

            “Should we be naked? We’re outside,” Shion said.

            “No one else is out here.”

            “Someone could drive by.”

            “You can’t see the backyard from the main road.”

            “So you want to be naked.”

            _Yeah, take off your clothes._

            Shion grinned and started taking off his clothes. In front of him, Nezumi did the same. They stood naked on a blanket in their backyard. In three days Shion would be twenty-four. He stepped forward and touched Nezumi’s stomach. The pastries Nezumi had become addicted to showed on his waistline. A small curve in the previous flat of his stomach.

            Nezumi caught Shion’s fingers as they trailed over the curved skin. Smooth. Paper-white. Nezumi stepped back, guarded his stomach with his arms.

            _Hey._

            “Hey, yourself. A little weight looks good on you.”

            “Leave me alone.”

            “Are you self-conscious?” Shion could not fathom it. Looked at Nezumi who looked down at himself. Dark bangs fell over his eyes.

            _I’m not used to this. Too much food was not something I ever had to deal with. I’ll get better at portions. Restraint._

            Nezumi’s thoughts were strange in Shion’s head. He took a moment to understand them. Thoughts Nezumi was not suppressing. Giving to Shion. He sounded almost shy. Embarrassed. Shion was not used to Nezumi’s voice in this tone. Clipped and small. Almost did not sound like Nezumi’s voice at all. A stranger. Uncertain.

            “Nezumi. You’re not eating too much. Are you serious?” Shion asked.

            He understood. Nezumi spent most of his life eating the bare minimum. Now, Shion baked for him constantly. Amused by Nezumi’s addiction to the pastries he made. He hadn’t put two-and-two together. Nezumi was used to not knowing when his next meal might be. How big that meal would be. It was a reflex to eat when he could. All that he could. Not turn food down when it was presented to him.

            _Can we drop it?_

            Shion stepped forward again. Closed the gap Nezumi’s step back had created. Reached out and slid his hand underneath Nezumi’s guarding arms to touch Nezumi’s small stomach, hardly there, noticeable only because it was no longer flat, no longer concave. He was healthy.

            “I love that I don’t have to worry that you’re not eating enough. I love knowing you’re not hungry. I love how you look now.”

            _Shut up._

            Nezumi, self-conscious. Shion looked at him with fascination. Amazed at the sheepishness. Hardly recognized the man, but it was still him.

            Long eyelashes, curled. Thin lips, parted. Cheekbones prominent though the cheeks themselves were no longer hollowed. He lifted a hand, long fingers, to tuck his hair behind his ear. A slow movement. When he peeked at Shion it was with grey eyes, steady.

            Never in Nezumi’s life was weight something he’d had to worry about. His looks never something that concerned him. His problems had been vast and serious.

            Now they were not. He had a house. He was not lonely. His debt was nearly paid. He would not have to worry about money anymore. He would not have to worry about anything but inches on his waist. They fought, but everyone fought. Shion liked to fight with Nezumi even when it hurt. Liked that they had things to fight about because it meant their relationship was real.

            Shion felt a giggle bubbling up in his throat, swallowed it down and bit hard on the inside of his cheek.

            _You’re staring._

            Shion released his cheek. “You’re staring back.”

            _Are we going to have sex or not?_

            Shion almost wished Nezumi could read his thoughts. He wanted to tell the man he was beautiful but knew it would piss Nezumi off. He thought it as hard as he could. They kneeled down on the blanket. Shion thought Nezumi was beautiful. Nezumi laid on his back. Shion thought he was sexy. His hair spread, inky, chaotic. His legs bent. Shion kissed his thighs. Handsome. Aroused. Shion thought and thought and hoped Nezumi could tell.

            Afterward, their sweat cooled. Nezumi pulled the ends of the blanket around them, cocooning them inside of it. Sealed them to each other.

            “You know you’re beautiful,” Shion said. To think it was not enough. Nezumi was not the mind reader. Shion laid partly on top of Nezumi. Propped himself up so that he could look at the man partly under him.

            Nezumi’s eyes were closed. Shion touched his eyelashes.

            _Shut up, Shion._

            “I mean it. Why can’t I compliment you?”

            _Fine. Thanks._

            “I want you to gain more weight,” Shion said.

            _Seriously, shut up._

            Shion figured Nezumi was already pissed off at him. What better time to say it?

            “I love you.”

            There was nothing in Nezumi’s thoughts. His eyes opened. Shion took his fingers away from Nezumi’s eyelashes.

            _So what?_

            Nezumi’s thought was soft, like the breeze that teased his bangs over his forehead. Shion smiled.

            “So I thought you might like to know.”

            “You think I’m going to say it back?”

            “I don’t know. Are you?” Shion asked. He leaned down enough to kiss Nezumi’s lips, just the corner of them. Leaned back up again.

            _I love you._

            “That doesn’t count.” A lie. It did count. Shion’s heart beat thickly even though the words didn’t matter. He knew Nezumi loved him. He didn’t care if Nezumi loved him. He cared if Nezumi stayed.

            “I love you,” Nezumi said. His eyes were closed again. Shion bit his lip hard even though Nezumi could not see his smile.

            “So what?” Shion whispered.

            Nezumi lips fell into a smile that opened enough to release a laugh. The wind managed to pick up enough force to push Nezumi’s bangs off his forehead. Shion shivered, pressed himself closer to Nezumi, who pulled the blanket tighter around them.

            “You think I care about love?” Shion asked.

            Nezumi’s grin was wide. Pushed at his cheeks. Shion’s heart ached. That goddamn smile.

            “Isn’t it supposed to matter?”

            “Not at all. Not to me,” Shion said.

            Nezumi laughed again. Shion wanted to cup the sound in the palms of his hands. Feel it shake the creases of his skin.

            _Liar._

            “Love is just an excuse,” Shion continued. He didn’t want Nezumi’s smile to ever disappear.

            Nezumi opened his eyes.

            _An excuse for what?_

            Shion thought about it. Traced Nezumi’s lips with the tip of his finger. Touched the bridge of Nezumi’s nose. He came up with an answer with his finger on the dip in Nezumi’s upper lip.

            “An excuse to spend a lifetime with someone,” he said.

            _Is that what we’re doing?_       

            “Yes.”

            _I never promised you a lifetime._

            “Too bad. I’m expecting it.”

            _Prepare to be disappointed._

            “I’ll kill you,” Shion whispered, and Nezumi’s laugh was startled.

            Grey eyes traced Shion’s features.

            _Red eyes. Pink lips. Cute smile. White eyelashes. Scar._

“How?”

            “How what?” Shion had been distracted by the list of his features.

            “How are you going to kill me?”

            Shion settled down onto Nezumi’s shoulder. Looked at Nezumi’s neck. His Adam’s apple. Paper-white skin. Nezumi must have shaved already that morning. Shion did not need to look at Nezumi’s smile any longer. Had it memorized. He’d never forget it.

            “With a knife. To the jugular.”

            _Will it be painful?_

            “Very,” Shion confirmed.

            _Will it take long?_

            “Forever.”

            _That’s a long time._

Shion closed his eyes. Waited to fall asleep even though he’d just woken. Even though it was morning. Even though he was not tired.

            “Not long enough,” Shion decided.

            He needed more than forever to lie half-on, half-off this man. Cocooned by a blanket from their bedroom. Cool breeze flicking the strands of his hair.

            _Not long enough._

*

Shion failed his exam. He’d never failed an exam before. He stared at his laptop screen. The front door opened.

            “Traffic was unbearable on the main highway, these idiots need to learn how to drive.”

            “I failed my exam.”

            “Which exam?”

            “Does it matter?” Shion turned to watch Nezumi kick off his boots and come into the kitchen with a stack of books. He had stopped at the library in Tokyo after his rehearsal. Got stalled between the shelves. Stuck in traffic because he’d driven in rush hour. Hadn’t left the city when he usually did. Spent an extra hour reading. Words in Shion’s head as Shion tried to finish his exam. He’d texted Nezumi to stop reading, then called him three times.

            “I called you,” Shion said.

            _He’s blaming me._

            “It’s your fault! I heard you reading for an hour, Nezumi, it’s a timed test and I couldn’t exit out once I’d started! You were supposed to be driving home at that time, I planned it for when you’d be driving home!”

            “I was in Tokyo, how was I supposed to know you could read my mind from there?”

            “Sometimes distance doesn’t matter!”

            “Sometimes it doesn’t, sometimes it does? Am I not allowed to read anywhere? Ever?”

            “Why didn’t you check your phone?”

            “It was dead,” Nezumi snapped, slapping his phone on the table.

            Shion picked it up. Pressed buttons and the screen stayed black. “You didn’t charge it?”

            _Everything’s my fault, you’ve got to be kidding me._

            “This is your fault, I’ve never failed an exam before.”

            “It’s one exam, Shion. It won’t affect anything.”

            _Get over it._

            “Get over it?” Shion nearly shouted. Voice almost cracked.

            “You can’t get mad at something I think.”

            “I can, actually, I’m pretty mad right now, that should be good enough evidence that I’m capable of getting mad when you think in your head that I should just get over it,” Shion snapped.

            “Just take it again.”

            “I can’t take it again!”

            _It’s one goddamn test, kid’s gotta be goddamn perfect at everything, fucking annoying –_

            “It’s not about being perfect! This is my schoolwork, this is my degree!” Shion was standing. He didn’t remember sliding off his stool.

            “Look, Shion. I didn’t know you were taking a test. I didn’t know you could hear me reading. You’re really going to get pissed at me?”

            “I told you this morning I had an exam.”

            “I can’t memorize your freaking schedule, you’ve got exams every other goddamn day.”

            “If you just listened to me, you would know when I had my exams and you could be a little sensitive about it since you know I have to read your mind, you know your reading is distracting, it’s right in my head. Could you do an exam with someone’s voice in your head? Could you? I’d like to see you do that!”

            _Right, I didn’t go to school, I’m a fucking idiot._

            “I didn’t say that!”      

            “You meant it though. Your shit is more important because it’s school, it’s significant, it matters.”

            “Of course it matters, Nezumi! What, you want me to say it doesn’t matter? Why would I be paying for online classes if it didn’t matter? Does that make sense to you?”

            Nezumi’s fingers were in his hair. “What would make you happy? I never read again? Should I toss these books in the trash? Quit my job so I never have to read a script?”

            “Don’t be dramatic,” Shion said, shaking his head, shutting his laptop on the screen still stating his abysmal score.

            _Right, I’m dramatic. Come home from a two-hour commute with goddamn traffic up my ass and get chewed out cause I read a few pages of a book at the library since I’m banned from reading in my own house, but I’m the one who’s being dramatic._

            “I have never banned you from reading.”

            _Whatever, Shion._

            “Where are you going?” Shion demanded. Nezumi was back by the door. Shoving his feet back in his boots. Unearthing his keys from his pocket.

            _Read my mind and find out._

            “Are you taking the car? If you take the car, I’m stranded here. I have to go to the bakery.”

            “You’re not working right now.”

            “I have to pick up my paycheck.”

            Nezumi opened the door without looking at him. “I’ll pick it up for you later.”

            “You had the car all day. I haven’t gotten to leave the house. Nezumi, don’t take the car,” Shion warned as Nezumi stepped out the house.

            The door slammed closed.

            _I’m taking the fucking car._

“It’s my car!” Shion shouted at the closed door.

            _Go fuck yourself._

            Shion stood gasping in the kitchen.

            _Fuck._

*

“That kid behind you is in the closet.”

            “Hm?”

            _Why are you whispering? What closet?_

            Nezumi’s lips were ringed with chocolate. A drip of ice cream slid over the back of his palm. A melted soft brown tear across paper-white.

            “The closet. He’s gay,” Shion said. Outside the window of the ice cream shop, the lake held up a murky sky. Somehow, the afternoon seemed sunny despite the absence of any actual sunshine. A cheerfulness. A lightness. It might have just been happiness.

            He and Nezumi were on a drive. They took drives frequently. An exploration of rural Japan. Not an exploration. A search. While Nezumi drove, his eyes flickered over the horizon, looking, looking.

            Shion did not call him out on this. Allowed their drives to be an exploration even though they were really a search. Allowed Nezumi to deny a need for his past and childhood and hometown even though they had been scouring the country for all that he denied caring about for weeks now. Five weeks, exactly.

            It was the first of October. Not ice cream weather, but the ice cream shop had been cute and cheerful.

            “And how do you know this?” Nezumi noticed the stripe of melted ice cream over his hand. Turned his hand to lick it.

            “I can read minds,” Shion said.

            Nezumi’s eyes flickered to him. Widened. “All this time?”

            “All this time,” Shion confirmed. He glanced back over Nezumi’s shoulder, and the kid averted his eyes. He’d been staring. Not at either Nezumi nor Shion, but the both of them. Specifically, their hands. Hands not holding ice cream cones. Hands without stripes of melted ice cream. Hands that were not being licked clean but were lying on the table, nothing so alarming with these hands but that the pinky of each interlocked with the other.

            This was Nezumi’s fault. A couple had been walking outside the window, around the lake. They held hands. Shion read Nezumi’s mind – _Holding hands._

            Shion had changed his ice cream from his right hand to his left. Rested his freed hand on the table beside Nezumi’s. Interlocked his pinky in Nezumi’s, thinking it was innocent enough. Nezumi might not even notice. Might think it was an accident. Might be distracted by the couple he watched outside the window to even feel a pinky hook onto his own. Was least likely to pull away, and he hadn’t pulled away.

            Shion struggled to eat his ice cream from his less dominant hand. Holding a cone was not a difficult endeavor. He was disappointed in his left hand.

            “Which kid?” Nezumi asked.

            “Don’t look,” Shion warned.

            Nezumi looked over his shoulder.

            _Red shirt?_

            “Yeah,” Shion whispered, resolutely staring out the window and curling his pinky so that it pulled Nezumi’s, as if it could pull Nezumi’s gaze as well. “Stop looking at him!” He wanted to look at the kid to see if the kid noticed he was being stared at, talked about. He didn’t want to look at the kid because if the kid hadn’t noticed he was being stared at and talked about, he might notice then, with Shion’s eyes on him in addition to Nezumi’s.

            “What’s he thinking?”

            “Those are his parents with him.”

            “He’s thinking about his parents and you know he’s gay?”

            “He’s thinking about our hands. Us. He’s thinking about us,” Shion said, glancing at Nezumi in relief that Nezumi was no longer looking over his shoulder. Nezumi was not inconspicuous. Grey eyes. Paper-white skin. Long legs. Long fingers. Origami arms. Dark hair like a city-night, starless. Half-up, half-down, hair from the top pulled back into a small braid that he’d allowed Shion to weave on their bed that morning. The lower layers of his hair free, around his shoulders, ink that stained his white shirt.

            Shion was also conspicuous. The kid had taken in both their features in a slow, careful way. Shion hadn’t been able to read anything in his tone. Just a catalogue of traits without judgement. It was almost unnerving. Definitely intriguing.

            “What’s he thinking about us? Threesome?”

            “Nezumi. He’s like, seventeen.”

            “Nineteen.”

            “You don’t know that.”

            “A guess. Anyway, I’m not the one thinking about it. He is.”

            Shion tried to twist his cone in his left hand so he could lick the other side more easily. “He’s not thinking about a threesome.” Shion peeked at him again, just the kid’s shoes, but it was enough.

            _Will I ever have that? Where did they find each other? Small town. No one in my school. The only one. Be alone forever. Have to get into Waseda. Meiji. Mom finds out, she’ll kill me. Too far. Have to get out._

            “What’s he thinking?” Nezumi whispered. He leaned lower across the table. Conspiratorially. Suspiciously.

            “Don’t lean like that, it looks like we’re talking about him.”

            “We are talking about him.”

            “He applied to universities in Tokyo and is hoping he’ll get in, but his mom doesn’t know he applied so far from home.”

            “And to you, that means he’s gay. Because only gay people go to school in Tokyo. That makes sense. You’re gay. You went to school in Tokyo. The correlation is undeniable. I can see what a great scientist you’ll be one day.”

            “Shh, Nezumi, lower your voice or just think instead of talking, I don’t want him to hear. And who said I was gay?”

             “Right, you’re very straight. I apologize, I don’t know why I suggested otherwise. There have been rumors, Safu has some suspicions – what does she know?”

             “Shut up, Nezumi, I’m trying to listen!”

            _They look happy. In love. Young. Not even afraid. How did they get like that? Parents probably aren’t homophobes. People are changing. Why not my parents? Wish my mom would turn around. Look at them. They’re normal. Red eyes. Scar. Maybe not. Just colored contacts. Birthmark. Doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. Looks friendly. Bet he’s nice. People who eat ice cream are nice._

_What’s he thinking?_

            “If you’re thinking, you’re interrupting his thoughts.”

            “You’re the one who told me to think instead of talk. About two seconds ago. Do you remember that?”

            “Why don’t you do neither?” Shion countered.

            Nezumi’s laugh was soft.

            _She’ll probably think that guy’s a girl. Doesn’t look like a girl. Long hair. Graceful. Mom will take that to mean girl. Closed mind. Why did I have to be her son? Why did I have to be into guys? They’re happy. He’s laughing. Looks really in love. Gay isn’t just sex. Bet Mom thinks it’s just sex. Doesn’t understand. She should just turn around. Look at them. See it’s not just sex. Like everyone else. One day I’ll be like that too. They’re older. Just have to wait a few years. Go to college. The city. Someone else like me in the city. Has to be. Has to be loads._

The kid’s mom started talking to him about one of his teachers she’d bumped into at the grocery store. Shion looked away from the kid’s shoes. At Nezumi, who watched him carefully.

            _Well?_

            “He thinks we look happy and in love and we’re proof that he’ll have that too one day. He just has to wait until he gets older. He just has to wait.”

            Nezumi was chewing. Crunching the cone part of his ice cream. Waffle, even though it was pricier than cake. Nezumi’s debt would be paid off soon. Just another month. Shion bullied him into getting a waffle cone.

            _And what do you think?_

            “About what?”

            “About anything.” Grey eyes squinted. Calculating. Taking Shion in with a curiosity that was not explained by the silence of his thoughts.

            Nezumi suppressed less thoughts, but oftentimes suppression came naturally. Shion knew this. Did not mind the silence produced by Nezumi’s unconscious reflex to keep his thoughts secret.

            “I think he’s right. I think he’ll find someone, and he’ll be really happy with them one day.”

            _Hopeless romantic._

            “I’m not. I’m very realistic.”

            “You have no evidence that this kid is going to be happy, and you just said it like it was a fact.”

            “You have no evidence that he’s not going to be happy. Why shouldn’t he be? We are.”

            “We have nothing to do with him.”

            “He feels alone and hopeless. He looks at the future as a possibility for change.”

            “And that’s us? Did you feel alone and hopeless?”

            “I was restless. I needed something to change,” Shion said.

            _And what changed, exactly?_

            Shion was startled by the question. “Everything,” he said. Wasn’t it obvious?

            Nezumi’s narrowed eyes relaxed. He turned back out the window. Ice cream dripped down his wrist.

            _Oh. Yeah. I guess that’s true._

            Shion peeked back at the kid. Made eye contact by accident. Forgot to look away as the kid’s thoughts flooded his head.

            _Don’t look like contacts. Can’t be real. Red eyes. He’s staring at me. Can he tell?_

            The kid’s cheeks turned instantly pink. Not a slow change. Instantaneous. A sudden splash of watercolor.

            _Can you tell I’m gay? Is it obvious?_

            The kid wasn’t looking away from Shion, and Shion didn’t look away from him. Watched his cheeks redden. Found it fascinating that the kid’s thoughts had shifted. Addressed him directly.

            _If you know, can you give me a sign? Can you just nod?_

            Shion thought about it. Hesitated, but only for a second. This was not his town. He would not come here again. It was not Nezumi’s hometown. It was just another place they had explored.

            Shion nodded, just slightly, hardly noticeably but that the kid was looking, waiting to notice.

            The kid’s eyes widened.

            _Did you just nod at that kid? He’s applying to colleges. He’s underage. Don’t just go agreeing to a threesome without my knowledge._

            Shion smiled without meaning to. The kid smiled back, a little nervously. Clearly under the impression that the smile was meant for him. Shion didn’t mind this. Finally looked away from the kid, at Nezumi.

            “We should go,” he said.

            “Why did you nod at him?”

            “He asked me to nod at him.”

            “No, he didn’t.”

            Shion stood up, and Nezumi looked up at him before standing up as well, glancing behind his shoulder at the kid who registered this glance.

            _They’re talking about me._

            “He asked me in his thoughts. Let’s go,” Shion said.

            “What? He asked you to nod at him in his thoughts? What, this random kid knows you can mind read?”

            “Come on.” Shion weaved his fingers fully in Nezumi’s. Squeezed his hand and pulled Nezumi forward. Only gently. He wasn’t in a great rush, but he didn’t usually let strangers know he could mind read. He never let strangers know he could mind read. One stranger only. In the shelves of a library. Long fingers, dark hair. Calming.

            At the door, Shion and Nezumi looked at the kid at the same time. He was staring back. Registered their eyes on him.

            _Oh, the other guy has grey eyes. Wow, he’s really intense. Almost scary. Maybe not. He looks at red-eyed guy in a soft way. Less scary. Not scary at all. How did they find each other? How did you find each other?_

            Shion blinked. “He just talked to me. In his thoughts, I mean.”

            “Reply. Give him another secret nod. This isn’t crazy at all.”

            Shion chewed on the inside of his cheek, thick skin. Offered Nezumi the remainder of his ice cream cone and freed his other hand from Nezumi’s.

            “Hold this and don’t eat it.”

            _I’m going to eat it._

            Shion walked over to the kid’s table, Nezumi’s thought in his head, and then the kid’s thought overlapping it.

            _Oh my god, he’s walking over here, he’s creeped out that I was staring – Wait, he was staring – Wait – He’s the one who nodded!_

            “Hi,” Shion said, at their table, smiling at the kid, whose blush was overwhelming.

            He had delicate hands. They fidgeted with the spoon inside his cup of melted ice cream. Shion knew the kid’s parents were staring at him, but they said nothing. Shion was careful not to look at them.

            “Um, hi,” the kid said. His voice cracked. He cleared it.

            _Kill me, kill me, I’m such a fucking loser –_

            Shion had to think quickly, couldn’t think at all, wasn’t as good on his feet as Nezumi, but then Nezumi’s voice was in his head.

            _Tell him you have to settle an argument that you and your boyfriend are having._

            The word boyfriend distracted Shion, but the thoughts of the kid refocused him.

            _He’s just staring at me. He thinks I’m an idiot. He’s really cool looking and he thinks I’m an idiot._

“Ah sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, I was just hoping you could settle an argument that me and my, um – that my boyfriend and I are having.”

            _Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend._

            The kid’s thought was overwhelming and fast, nearly overtook Nezumi’s thoughts but that Nezumi’s voice was more familiar, easier to pick out, unravel from the scattered repetition in the kid’s head.

            _You just bleached your hair white this weekend. You hate how it came out and think it looks fake and you should dye it back. Your boyfriend is wild about it and thinks it looks natural and sexy as hell and doesn’t want you to dye it back. You think he’s lying cause he’s your boyfriend and has to say that he likes it. He told you to get a second opinion._

            “Oh, uh, sure, okay,” the kid was saying, voice blending into his own thoughts and Nezumi’s thoughts in Shion’s head.

            Shion touched his hair self-consciously. “The thing is, I just bleached my hair this weekend. Yesterday. I don’t really like how it looks, but my – ” Shion cleared his throat, “– my boyfriend,” he hitched a thumb to point behind him, in the direction of Nezumi without looking at Nezumi, though he noted that the kid’s eyes slipped over his shoulder, fell onto Nezumi and lingered there before shifting back to him, “he likes it and doesn’t want me to dye it back. He even says it looks natural, but I think he’s just saying that. So he told me to get a stranger’s opinion. For objectivity. Someone impartial.”

            _Ask him if he’d fuck you._

            Shion ignored Nezumi’s thought, registering vaguely the laugh slipping after Nezumi’s voice.

            _Dyed? His eyelashes too? Eyebrows?_

            “Oh. Um. I like it. I think it looks, you know, it looks good. He’s right. Your, uh, boyfriend, I mean.” The kid’s eyes slipped back over Shion’s shoulder. Shion could tell Nezumi was staring back at him from the way the kid’s blush darkened furiously. “I don’t think he’s lying just to, you know, make you feel better or whatever.”

            _Why is he asking me? Why is he talking to me? Why were they talking about me? They know I’m gay. He nodded. He knows I’m gay. Gay people know when other people are gay. Do they? I don’t know anyone who’s gay. No one’s gay in this town. Who are these guys?_

            _Tell him thank you. Smile. Tell him he made you feel a lot better. Give him a sexy wink and ask him how old he is. I have some ideas but I’m not looking for a lawsuit._

            Shion bit his lip to control his grin. “Really? That’s really nice of you, thank you, that actually makes me feel a lot better. I was feeling really self-conscious about it, but I think I’ll leave it like this now. My boyfriend will be happy. Thanks again! Sorry to bother you.”

            _Boyfriend. He says it so casually. Like it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. He’s not ashamed. I don’t need to be ashamed. Why am I ashamed? I won’t be. I’m not. I have to stop. He looks happy. I want to be like that. Like them._

            “Um, yeah. Not that you, you didn’t bother – I mean, sure, no problem.” The kid was sheepish. Rubbing the back of his neck. Shion turned away from him. Wanted to read more of his thoughts, but it was time to go.

            He went to Nezumi, still by the door, eating Shion’s ice cream even though he hadn’t finished his own.

            “What did he say?” Nezumi asked. His voice carried even though it didn’t seem louder than normal volume. The way it did on stage. An act. Another scene.

            “He agrees with you. He thinks it looks good.”

            “Told you. Very sexy,” Nezumi said, then leaned down and kissed Shion with lips that tasted of strawberry and chocolate, chilled and sticky.

            Shion laughed. “You have ice cream on your lips.”

            “So do you,” Nezumi said. He kicked open the door, his hands filled with their ice cream cones, and Shion followed him out without a backward glance.

            “Boyfriend, huh?” Shion said, weaving his fingers in Nezumi’s. It was ten minutes after they’d left the ice cream shop. They were making their way back to the car, parked a few blocks away. They’d gotten out to explore the town even after Nezumi saw that it was not the town he’d been looking to find.

            They’d finished their ice cream cones. Nezumi’s hand was sticky. Skin tacky, clinging to Shion’s palm in patches.

            “Hm?”

            “Didn’t think I’d ever hear you call me your boyfriend.”

            “I didn’t. I called myself your boyfriend.”

            “Is there a difference?”

            “I also said you dyed your hair. Can’t trust everything you hear.”

            _Let’s walk in the sun._

            They stood at the edge of the sidewalk. After a car drove by, slow on the small-town street, Nezumi led them across. They jogged slightly even though no other cars were coming. Slowed again when they were on the other side where the looming shopfronts didn’t cast shadows.

            The sun had finally dug its way out from the layers of clouds. It wouldn’t shine for long. The afternoon was waning down. They were several hours from their own home. They’d get back late, around eleven.

            “It was a nice touch,” Shion said. “He liked it. That I called you my boyfriend. He liked that we weren’t ashamed.”

            “Glad he liked it.”

            “I liked it too.”

            “That we’re not ashamed? Did you think we were before this point?”

            “That I called you my boyfriend. I might do that more often.”

            Nezumi glanced at him. Just for a moment. “To whom? Customers at the bakery? Cashiers in the grocery store? Your mother?”

            “All of them. Everyone.”

            “Do whatever you want.”

            “It has a nice ring. Boyfriend,” Shion said. “Very commercial. Socially recognized.”

            “Whatever makes you happy.”

            “It does make me happy,” Shion agreed.

            Nezumi pulled his hand. “That’s the car, we gotta cross back over.”

            Again, they stood at the edge of the sidewalk. Watched cars drive down the tiny street. Waited for a break in the line of them so they could dash across, hand-in-hand, to the safety of the other side.

*

Shion snuck his fingers under Nezumi’s t-shirt. Touched the curve of his stomach, soft skin.

            Nezumi stirred.

            _Touching me. Shion._

            “Go back to sleep,” Shion whispered.

            “What’re you doing?”

            “Nothing.”

            Nezumi’s fingers on Shion’s wrist. Fumbling, warm with sleep. Pulling Shion’s hand out from under his t-shirt.

            _Don’t._

            “Don’t what?” Shion pushed himself on top of Nezumi.

            Nezumi groaned.

            _Heavy. Get off. I’m sleeping._

“Sleep like this.” Shion lined his thighs with Nezumi’s. Their hips. Nezumi’s stomach against his own. Their chests pressing. He let his forehead fall onto Nezumi’s, the bridges of their noses colliding. He laughed against Nezumi’s lips.

            “What’s happening?” Nezumi asked groggily.

            “I’m going to sleep like this from now on.”

            _Are you getting up soon?_

“I’m never getting up.”

            _For your jog._

            Shion turned his head. The alarm clock told him it was a quarter past six.

            “Probably. I like to beat the sunrise.”

            _Maybe I’ll come with you._

            “Since when did you jog? I thought you said it was stupid to run if you weren’t trying to get somewhere or away from somewhere.”

            _Weight to lose._

            “I don’t want you to lose weight.”

            _Did I ask what you wanted?_

            Shion sighed into Nezumi’s lips. “Fine, you can come on my jog with me. To be healthy. Not to lose weight.”

            _Stop being bossy and get off me._

            Shion lined his arms with Nezumi’s. Felt Nezumi’s heartbeat against his chest. It might have been his own heartbeat. Was there a difference?

            _Can feel his heartbeat. Or is that mine? Does it matter?_

            Shion closed his eyes. Let the sun rise. He was never going to move again.

*

It was November when Shion dreamt of his parents.

            Dark hair. His mother had grey eyes. His father had long fingers that he wove in his bangs. Shion ran with them in tall grass, soft against his bare feet. They called to him to catch up. He watched their shoulderblades, their legs, their backs. Their faces when they turned, eyes catching on his, making sure he was keeping up with the strides of their long, long legs.

            His father was ahead. There was a large bulge in his mother’s stomach. His father slowed, caught his mother’s hand, fingers interlocking. They didn’t run fast. Their feet were light. There was no desperation. There was eagerness only, giddiness, anticipation.

            When his parents stopped, Shion was only a few steps behind. Barreled into the back of his father’s legs. His father laughed. A laugh like a bark. Sharp and abrupt in the cool morning air.

            “Wanna go up?”

            Shion nodded. His father’s long fingers under his armpits. Big hands. Strong arms. Shion was lifted. Settled down on broad shoulders. Locked his legs around his father’s neck. Wove his fingers deep into his father’s bangs. Thick hair.

            Peeked down at his mother, who rubbed her stomach absently, the way she did. It was not food in there. They’d told him. Sat him down and asked what he would think about having a companion. A best friend. Someone to take care of. Someone to be with him his whole life, to grow with him, to learn from him, to look up to him.

            His mother said it would be a sister. His father said it would be a brother. Shion liked to press his hand to his mother’s stomach and feel the kicks of little feet. He imagined they were the size of the moon, how small it looked in the sky, Shion would pinch it between his fingers at night. He did not know if it would be a sister or a brother. Either way, it would be a delicate, fragile thing, and Shion would never let it get hurt.

            “Look up there, sweetie.” His mother pointed, and Shion looked. Above the mountains, the sun rose. Slow. Too many colors to count.

            His father cupped his hands over Shion’s ankles. Held him steady. Shion let go of his father’s hair. Reached his hands up to touch the sky. Dip his fingers in it. Let the color coat his skin so he could take it back home. He would save it to show the sister or brother in his mother’s stomach. It would be coming out any day now. Shion hoped it would like him.

            “What do you think?” Shion’s father asked.

            “Does it do this every morning?” Shion asked. His voice didn’t sound like his voice. It was smaller.

            “Every morning,” his father confirmed.

            “How come we never saw it before?”

            “We wanted to let you sleep in. You can only see it if you wake up early, like we did today.”

            “I’ll wake up early tomorrow,” Shion decided.

            “What about the next day?”

            “Will the baby be here the next day?”

            “Don’t know. What do you think, hon?”

            Shion’s mother laughed lightly. Her laugh like a sound from a bird. Chirping, musical. “Maybe.”

            Shion let his hands settle back into his father’s hair. He liked to touch it. Soft. “Then I’ll get up early and bring the baby.”

            “Without us?”

            “You might be tired. I can come by myself,” Shion said. He liked how tall the mountains were. There was something comforting in being so much smaller than them. He never had to worry about getting lost. He’d be able to see them from anywhere in the world.

            “Will you remember how to get here?” his father asked. Hands still firm around Shion’s ankles. Shion hoped he’d never let go.

            “I’ll always remember.”

            Shion woke to the bed shifting. Wanted to fall back asleep. He hadn’t looked at Nezumi’s parents closely enough. He hadn’t realized he should have been paying attention to them. Memorizing them.          

            Nezumi was getting up. The alarm clock on the nightstand said it was nearly four.

            “Come back,” Shion murmured, pushing himself onto his forearms. His body was heavy. He was exhausted.

            _I need air. I’m fine._

            Shion hauled himself up. Made himself get out of bed even though the room was cold outside the blanket. The mattress warm. Pulled him back. Shion nearly threw himself off of it. Stumbled, bare feet on carpet. Caught his balance and went after Nezumi, who’d gone out the back door.

            “Can I come out there with you?” Shion asked it from the doorway. Nezumi walked on the long grass. Bare feet. The moon high and bright in the sky. Shion looked up at it, was tempted to reach his hand up, pinch it between his fingers. He’d never done that before. Was curious as to how small it really was.

            _Okay._

            Shion stepped outside. The grass cold on his feet. The air colder on his skin. The warmth they’d stirred up between them on the bed shed instantly. He winced as he made his way to Nezumi, who was still walking farther and farther into the backyard until he finally stopped.

            Shion stood beside him. Nezumi didn’t seem to notice the cold. Shion wondered if he could touch him.

            _I think I prefer the nightmares._

            “No, you don’t,” Shion said gently. He experienced every nightmare with Nezumi. He felt the fear. Tangible. Smoke in his lungs.

            “No, I don’t,” Nezumi agreed.

            White fog followed their words. Clouds released from their lips.

            _It was my birthday._     

            Shion looked at Nezumi’s profile. Shivered. Traced the line of it.

            _I don’t remember the date. But I know it was my birthday._

            “It felt warm. Summer,” Shion offered.

            Nezumi shrugged. “Maybe.”

              _You can go back inside. I just want to stay out here a little longer, but you don’t need to stay out with me._

            “I want to. Can I?”

            _Yes. Stay._

            They stood beside each other and exhaled clouds. Shion wondered if they would stand still until the sun rose in a few hours. If they would not move an inch. If there was even some fear that if they did not watch for it, the sun would not rise at all. Would never rise again.

*

The debt Nezumi had been building since he was seven years old was paid off with his second paycheck in November.

            They drove to the bank in town with a folder full of the forged official documents so that Nezumi could open an account.

            Shion did not propose the idea for a joint account. Nezumi had thought about it, but only briefly, and quickly put it out of mind, labeled it ridiculous. Shion was fine with this. He wanted Nezumi to have his own money. Something that was his.

            Nezumi was impatient with the woman at the bank who helped them. He found her condescending, though he was charming to her the way he always was with strangers.

            When they returned home, Shion set up Nezumi’s online account. Explained to him the checking and savings accounts because he knew Nezumi had not been listening to the woman at the bank.

            “I don’t need you to explain this to me. I’m not an idiot,” Nezumi said. He had poured himself tea but had not drank from his mug.

            “I know you’re not an idiot.”

            _He’s giving me that fucking accommodating voice like I’m a child._

“I’m not doing that.”

            “You just did it.”

            “This is my normal voice.”

            “It’s fucking patronizing.”

            Shion leaned back against the couch. His laptop balanced on his crossed legs. Nezumi didn’t seem to want to sit next to Shion and observe the creation of his own online bank account. He lingered in the kitchen, making tea and not drinking it.

            “Nezumi. You don’t need to get upset.”

            _I hate that fucking voice._

            “When people try to help you, it’s not because they think you’re an idiot.”

            “Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?” Nezumi demanded.

            _Don’t be so condescending. Just because I didn’t go to school doesn’t mean I don’t have common sense. I understand basic finance. Does it make you feel good and charitable to sit me down and explain shit to me? Do you want to teach me how to count next? What about the goddamn alphabet?_

            Shion pressed his fingers to his forehead. The people in the bank, though there had only been a handful, had had many thoughts. Shion tried not to look at them, but was out of practice in avoiding looking at people and getting sucked in.

            “Nezumi.”

            _Don’t say my name like that._

            “I don’t know why you’re upset. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry. I won’t explain anything to you.”

            “I’m not upset,” Nezumi snapped.

            Shion chose not to say anything. Did not want to get into a fight. Wrote Nezumi’s banking password on a sheet of paper from his notebook on the coffee table because he knew Nezumi had not been paying attention when he’d told him what it was. He heard Nezumi leaving the kitchen as he folded up the paper with Nezumi’s password and wondered where he should put it. When he looked up, Nezumi was gone.

            He would be in the backyard. Looking at where the mountains touched the sky.

            _Parents are supposed to do this stuff._

            Shion pushed the laptop off his lap onto the cushion beside him. Pulled his legs up to his chest. Rested his chin on his knees and closed his eyes. Did not go outside to Nezumi even though he wanted to.

            The longer they lived in this house, the more Nezumi thought about his family. His hometown. His childhood. Everything he’d refused to acknowledge for most of his life. Everything he’d said was pointless to think about. Everything he insisted was done and over, no use in hoping, no use in wishing for a past he couldn’t have and a present that had been taken from him.

            These thoughts were not for Shion. They were for Nezumi, and Shion gave him privacy to think about them.

            When Nezumi was ready, he would talk to Shion about what he felt. Until then, Shion listened from inside and waited for Nezumi to come back to him. Cold from the November night and craving Shion’s warmth.

*

Nezumi had the incredibly annoying habit of being unable to sit still.

            The only moments when he could be motionless for hours were when he stood in the backyard. Otherwise, he’d shift. Up from the couch. Into the kitchen. Opening cabinets, closing them. Out of the bedroom. Around the bathroom.

            Shion did not notice it at first. After he noticed, he found it cute, even fascinating. By December, his skin itched with Nezumi’s restlessness.

            It wasn’t restlessness. Nezumi wasn’t used to staying in one place. He read less to allow Shion to study, so there was nothing to anchor him. To distract him from his need to keep moving. Always somewhere to go. Never settling.

            “Nezumi!” Shion was in the living room trying to watch a lecture. Unable to because Nezumi kept flitting in and out of rooms. Like a lost animal.

            Nezumi appeared from the bedroom. “Hm? What?”

            “Stop moving around.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Don’t you have something to do?” Shion asked.

            “Yeah, practice my script.”

            “Okay, well I need another hour to finish this lecture, and then you can practice. I’ll even rehearse it with you. Until then, can you just sit still? Why don’t you watch the lecture with me?”

            Nezumi squinted. “I’m uninterested in muscle decomposition.”

            “I need you to stop moving. It’s distracting.”

            “Reading is distracting, moving is distracting, is there anything I’m allowed to do?”

            “Yes. Sitting. Or start on dinner.”

            “There’s leftovers.”

            “We can leave those for tomorrow, I want tacos,” Shion insisted. He didn’t care about having tacos. He knew they didn’t have the ingredients and he needed Nezumi out of the house.

            “Tacos? We don’t have anything for tacos.”

            “Can you go get stuff then? Please?”

            Nezumi sighed loudly. Threw his hands dramatically in the air.

            _So demanding._ _Fine. It’ll make him happy._

            “Thank you, thank you,” Shion said, popping up off the couch to give Nezumi a kiss on his way to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

            _Annoying. Cute. Stupid._

            When Nezumi left, Shion was able to watch five minutes of his lecture before there was Nezumi’s voice in his head, singing. He had turned the radio on in the car. Shion groaned and nearly threw his laptop across the room. He searched for his phone.

            The singing stopped when the phone rang.

            “What?”

            “Stop singing!”

            “I’m not singing.”

            “You are, I can hear the words in your thoughts.”

            “I’m listening to the radio.”

            “Turn it off.”

            _Bossy. Turn-on. Sexy._

            “Yes, sir.”

            “I’m serious, Nezumi.”

            “I can tell.”

            _Tell me what else to do._

            “Just get the taco stuff and try not to think about anything,” Shion snapped. He hung up on Nezumi’s laugh.

            By the time Nezumi got back, Shion had finished his lecture. This was intentional. While Nezumi was in the store, thinking about prices and then forcing himself to stop thinking about prices when he remembered Shion would hear him thinking about prices, another accidental thought flitted through his head, distracting Shion enough that he had to rewind a minute of his lecture and watch it over.

            _Take a drive after, give him time to finish the lecture. He said an hour? Think so. Give the kid time to get some work done._

            When Shion heard Nezumi’s keys in the lock, he ran to the front door. Startled Nezumi as he walked in.

            _Shit – What the fuck?_

            “Shit, Shion, you scared the shit out of me.” Nezumi dropped the grocery bags, and Shion kissed him hard.

            “Fuck me,” Shion said, trying to be bossy. He pulled on Nezumi’s jacket. Nezumi’s lips were cold and the fabric of his jacket colder.

            Grey eyes were wide, still startled. Then understanding. He kissed Shion back, harder.

            _Yes, sir._

*

When they fought in shouts that rang throughout the house about Nezumi complaining resentfully about his commute in the dark winter nights and Shion reminding Nezumi that he’d known what he was getting into and had agreed to this and wasn’t allowed to be bitter about it even in his thoughts because he knew Shion could read those, Nezumi had this thought –

            _Fucking selfish. Can’t stand this kid. Goddamn miserable, can’t even think without being punished for it. Never should have moved here with him. Mistake._

             – and Shion started to cry. It startled both of them. Nezumi’s anger evaporated, and Shion felt his skin heat up.

            “Sorry,” Shion mumbled, wiping at his eyes hard.

            _I hurt him._

            “I didn’t – I’m sorry – It was just accidental, it was a stupid thought – I don’t – ” Nezumi stared at him helplessly.

            _Make it better. Make it better._

            “Shion, I’m sorry. If you didn’t – I know you can’t help it, but when we fight, it’s not right that you can read my thoughts, everyone thinks shitty things when they fight – I bet you think things about me – You can’t listen to that.”

            Shion waved his hand. Retreated out the living room where they’d moved their fight from the bedroom. “It’s fine – I understand – I don’t know why I’m crying – ” He made it to the doorway of the bathroom. Shut himself in and closed the door and leaned against it. Told himself to stop crying.

            He knew it was just a stupid thought. He knew Nezumi didn’t mean it. They were fighting, and Nezumi thought cruel things when they fought. Shion did the same. There were mornings Shion hated Nezumi. There were afternoons he wished Nezumi would leave the house and not come back for a week. Days he was desperate for a break from Nezumi. Hours spent seething at the man for no particular reason but that to live with someone was infuriating, and Nezumi was a particularly difficult person. Shion knew he was too. He didn’t know why he was crying. Reflexes of his body malfunctioning. Tear ducts misunderstanding the situation. Throat getting confused, releasing hitching sobs out of panic at what to do.

            Nezumi was on the other side of the door.

            “Shion. Shion, come out.”

            _I’m sorry. Fuck. I didn’t mean to think that, fuck. It’s not true. Shion. Shit._

            The doorknob jiggled. Shion reached out and locked it.

            “I’m okay, I just need a minute,” he called. Hated his voice for cracking.

            “Let me in. You know I didn’t mean that. You know that wasn’t true. Don’t be stupid, Shion, I know I don’t have to convince you that I didn’t mean that. It was just bullshit. I was just pissed off.”

            “I know, I understand!” Shion shouted back. Pressed his hands hard to his eyes.

            “Then come out.”       

            “Can you give me a minute?”

            _Don’t want to give him a minute. What is he thinking in there? Is he convincing himself I don’t wanna be here? Dammit, shit. I didn’t mean that. Shion? Shion, you’re reading this, right? I want to be here. Of course I do. You think I really think this was a mistake? Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius? Come on, open the door, let me in, let me talk to you._

            “Shion. Shion, come on, don’t be stubborn.”

            “I just need a minute, Nezumi!”

            “To convince yourself of something ridiculous? Let me in!” Nezumi slammed his hand on the door.

            Shion cursed under his breath. Turned and wrenched the door open, and Nezumi nearly fell on him.

            Nezumi stepped back quickly.

            _Still crying._

            “What?” Shion demanded.

            “I didn’t mean that.”

            “I know. You said that already.”

            Nezumi reached up. Long fingers in his dark hair. Knuckles whitening. “So what? You really think I don’t want to be here with you? You think I’d rather be in that stupid apartment in the city existing but not giving a shit about anything? You think I miss that? You think I want to go back to that?”

            “I didn’t say I thought any of that!”

            “Then why the hell are you upset?” Nezumi yelled.

            “Why are you yelling at me?” Shion yelled back.

            “Why are you still crying?”

            “I don’t know, but it’s not helping that you’re still yelling!”

            _Fuck._

Nezumi dropped his hand from his hair. Exhaled hard and looked at Shion harder.

            Shion sniffed. Wished he had a tissue. Considered wiping his nose on the back of his hand. Decided against it and turned away from Nezumi, walking further into the bathroom and ripping off a few strips of toilet paper to blow his nose.

            Nezumi had followed him into the bathroom. Shion wished he hadn’t. Didn’t want to be in the small space with him.

            “Can you give me some space?” Shion asked, glaring at him.

            “Why do you need space?” Nezumi countered.

            “Everyone needs space!”

            _I don’t._

            Nezumi stared at the ceiling. Shion watched his chest rise and fall.

            “Yes, you do. We both do. I read it in your thoughts. There’s nothing wrong with space, it doesn’t mean we don’t love each other and want to be with each other, it’s just space, it’s necessary in preventing us from hating each other.”

            Nezumi looked back at him. “So…Do you want me to leave you alone?”

            _What is space?_

            “Can I take the car? I’ll just go on a drive. You don’t need it right now, right?” Shion asked.

            It had to be around two in the morning. The fight had started when Nezumi got home from his night show, late.

            “No, I guess not.”

            _You know I didn’t mean it. Right? You know that. I never thought my life would be like this. I never thought I’d have this._

            “I know, Nezumi. I really do understand. I just need space. I’m not mad, and I’m not upset, I just need to be away from you.”

            _Don’t. Why do you need that?_ _I don’t understand._

            “Right. Yeah, I get it. Space,” Nezumi said quietly. He looked helpless. Looked away from Shion. Backed away, out the bathroom, wandered into the living room where Shion had to follow him in order to grab the keys and his coat and shoes and leave.

            Nezumi hovered in the living room, drifted over to the front door while Shion zipped his coat up.

            “The roads are slushy. It’s dark. Be careful.”

            _You’re coming back, right?_

            Shion glanced at Nezumi. Startled by his thought. None of Nezumi’s worry showed on his face now. Erased. Nothing but calm, composure. A lie.

            “Of course I’m coming back, Nezumi,” Shion said. He shouldn’t leave. He knew this now. Nezumi was worried. More than he should have been. An uncertainty that was nonsensical – of course Shion would come back. They’d only had a fight. This was their home. Shion never wanted to leave it. He needed to stay to prove that to Nezumi. Still unsure, after all this time, that he would be left alone. Still wary. Still scared.

            But Shion left anyway. Knew Nezumi’s thought was just a thought in the middle of a fight and didn’t matter. Was absolutely certain that it wasn’t true. Had no doubt. Knew Nezumi loved him and their life, knew Nezumi was happier than he’d ever been, knew Nezumi wanted nothing else, just as Shion didn’t want anything else.

            But Nezumi’s thought had still happened. And Shion still wanted to get away from him, just for a little bit. Not forever. Not for a night. Just an hour. Just to breathe.

            In the car, Shion turned on the radio. Loud. Still heard Nezumi, whom he imagined was out in the backyard despite the cold, the frost on the long grass.

            _He’ll come back. He’ll come back. He’ll come back._

*

It was the same night. The dashboard of the car said it was half past three when Shion parked. Turned off the ignition. Pulled out the key and got out of the car, the cold of the night striking him immediately, tearing away any remnant of the heat Shion had been blasting as he’d driven, aimlessly, trying to get far enough to shake Nezumi’s voice from his head.

            He never got far enough. He didn’t think there was a far enough. He sometimes considered flying somewhere on the opposite side of the globe. Looked at plane tickets for Brazil, Uruguay, Argentina. Just to see if he’d still have Nezumi’s voice in his head. Just to see how far it would travel. A curiosity that itched him.

            When he opened the front door, Nezumi heard it from wherever he was in the house. His relief was a sweeping thing through Shion’s mind.

            _He’s back. He came back._

            Shion closed the front door behind him. Took off his coat and shoes slowly. Nezumi was not in the living room or kitchen. Shion went to the bathroom. Brushed his teeth even though he’d already brushed his teeth. Washed his face. Looked at the shower and considered dousing himself in warm water. Decided against it. Padded to the bedroom, undressing as he walked.

            Nezumi was in bed. A small shape beneath the blanket. Shion walked forward carefully, slipped into bed and lifted the blanket to see Nezumi’s face.

            Nezumi was curled in a ball, tight. His hair covered his eyes. His cheeks shined. Shion reached out, wary, to touch his skin. Wet, sticky.

            “Nezumi?”

            _I’m sorry._

            “How could you think I wouldn’t come back?” Shion was almost angry at him. Angry at him for being scared. Angry at him for being worried. Angry at him for crying, for being hurt, for feeling abandoned.

            Since when did Nezumi let anyone hurt him? Since when did Nezumi let anyone see he was hurt? Why didn’t he hide it? Why didn’t he suppress his thoughts? Why did he let these thoughts follow Shion as he drove, kept driving, couldn’t escape them?

            Why had he changed so much? Was it Shion’s fault? Had Shion done this to him? Had Nezumi let him?

            Nezumi didn’t reply. Didn’t think anything. Opened his eyes and shifted so Shion could see them. Bright, steady.

            “I knew you’d come back,” he finally said.

            “It was just a fight, Nezumi.”

            “I know.”

            “I was just mad at you.”

            “I know.”

            “I’m not going to leave.”

            _I know._

            Shion sighed. His breath shifted Nezumi’s bangs. Nezumi blinked at him. Long eyelashes, curled. Shion settled closer to him. Pulled the blanket over his shoulder. “Why would you be worried?”

            “I wasn’t.”

            “I was reading your thoughts.”

            “I wasn’t worried,” Nezumi said.

            “You’re lying, I was reading your thoughts, I know you were worried. You were crying. Your cheeks are wet. Your eyes are glassy.”

            “I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t crying,” Nezumi said.

            Shion considered letting Nezumi be in denial. Considered letting him lie. It was clear to both of them that he was lying. Why not let him lie? Why push it?

            “I just don’t know why you would let yourself get upset when you knew I was going to come back. You had to know that. Why would I leave? I just needed space, I told you that,” Shion said. He was pushing it. He didn’t know why.

            Nezumi shifted his cheek against the pillow. A soft rustle of fabric and skin. “You knew that I didn’t mean what I thought. You knew we were just fighting and I just thought that and it didn’t mean a thing. You knew I don’t think living with you is a mistake. You got mad anyway. You started crying anyway. You went on a drive at three in the morning in the snow anyway. I’m not allowed to do that shit too? I’m not allowed to overreact? I’m not allowed to feel anything even though I know I have no reason to feel it?”

            Nezumi did not raise his voice. Spoke very calmly, evenly. Shion stared at him. Was aware his own lips were open. Closed them. Opened them again to speak.

            “Oh. I guess – You’re right. I didn’t think about it like that.”

            “Maybe you should.”

            “Okay. I will. It’s not that I’m upset that you’re upset. I just don’t want you to be upset. I don’t want to know that I can hurt you. You used to be so…” Shion trailed off. Nezumi’s eyes moved over his face slowly.

            _So what?_

            “You didn’t let anyone hurt you.”

            “Who was there to hurt me? I didn’t have anyone to let hurt me.”

            Shion didn’t know what to say to this.

            Nezumi shuffled against the mattress. Unfolding from the ball he’d been curled in. Slow movements. His leg touched Shion’s. “Do you not like me like this? Should I go back to being stoic and unfeeling?”

            “That’s not what I meant.” Shion moved closer to him. Let their legs overlap each other.

            “Then what’s the problem?”

            “There isn’t a problem. You just surprise me a lot. That’s all.”

            “Is that a bad thing?”  

            “No. I’m happy you’re changing. I like all the changes. I just hope that you like them too. I don’t want you to resent me for them. For changing you.”

            “I don’t resent you.”

            “I know. Not now. Not yet.”

            “You’re planning on making me resent you?”

            Shion’s exasperated exhale was offset by the lift of his lips. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go to sleep.”

            Nezumi closed his eyes. A minute passed before he thought anything.

            _I’m not that different._

            Shion had not yet closed his eyes. Examined Nezumi still, liked to look at him when Nezumi wasn’t watching. Was allowed to linger on every feature. Thin lips that fell into an easy smirk when he teased Shion. Dark hair that he pulled at when he was angry. Easily angry. Temperamental. Singing in the kitchen one moment and cursing the faulty stovetop the next. Loud laughter, intense stares. Stubborn and needy and overdramatic, and this hadn’t changed, Nezumi just didn’t hide it as well – stopped trying to hide it at all. Wary and guarded still, in a different way. His main focus was no longer the protection of himself now, his body and his life. He protected what he had. This house. This happiness. Shion.

            “You read less books,” Shion said. This, when he thought about it, was what felt most different about Nezumi.

            “That’s your fault.” Nezumi didn’t open his eyes.

            “I know.”

            _It’s not a sacrifice._

            “When I get my degree you can read all the time. Endlessly. Every book in the library. Keep me awake while you read.”

            _I don’t miss the books, Shion._

            “You love books. You love to read.”

            _I like books. I like reading. I wouldn’t use the word love for something like that._

            Shion rubbed his heel over Nezumi’s calf, just to feel him there. “What would you use it for?”

            Nezumi’s thin lips pulled up. Small and secretive.

            _Goodnight, Shion._       

            Shion let his eyes close. Didn’t need to see Nezumi’s smile to know what it looked like. “Goodnight, Nezumi.”

*

It was New Years day. A year in their house. Karan and Safu had just left after coming for lunch. Now Nezumi was leaving, going into the city for a night show.

            Shion finished cleaning the kitchen. Watched Nezumi pull on his scarf, coat, dip his feet in his boots and kneel to lace them up. Shion had gone into the city the week before to see Nezumi’s Christmas show. Every time he returned to the city to spend a day with Nezumi, he remembered again why he’d had to leave. He wanted to follow Nezumi into the cold night, but he didn’t want the inevitable migraine. Worse was convincing Nezumi that the inevitable migraine wasn’t that bad when it was.

            “Make sure you drive safe, there are a lot of parties, drunk drivers,” Shion said, drifting out of the kitchen and leaning beside the doorframe.

            Nezumi stood up, boots tied. “The parties were last night.”   

            “Oh, yeah.”

            _What’s wrong?_

            “Nothing.”

            _Liar._

            “Nothing’s wrong. Just tired,” Shion said, looking up at Nezumi, who watched him carefully.

            “Hm. Don’t wait up for me to go to bed, I’ll be back around one. Later, actually, I have to talk to the director of my next show about some business, I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

            Shion nodded. “Okay.” His voice was quieter than he’d intended it to be.

            Nezumi kept looking at him, then reached up, one of his hands holding both his gloves. He tilted up Shion’s face, the leather of Nezumi’s gloves a contrast to the warmth of Nezumi’s fingers jostling Shion’s jawline.

            Shion let himself be kissed. A gentle kiss, like a clump of falling snow caught on his lips. Melting slowly.

            Nezumi leaned away.

            _Are you sure you’re okay?_

            “I’m fine.” Shion made himself smile. “Have a good show.”

            “Thanks.”

            Nezumi left. It was only six. While his show would not start until nine, there was rehearsal beforehand and fittings. Shion was not tired, and Nezumi’s voice was not in his head, but Shion couldn’t concentrate to do any coursework. He closed his laptop, stood in the backyard for a minute, but the cold pushed him back inside. He brushed his teeth slowly. Examined his face in the mirror. His eyes. His hair. Undressed and looked at himself, then left the bathroom. Sat on the bed. Picked up a book Nezumi had checked out of the library but hadn’t read yet. Opened it but hardly saw the ink on paper, black on white, letters and words. Closed it.

            He got out of bed. Turned off the light. Returned to bed. The alarm clock on the night stand said it was not even seven. Shion pressed his face into his pillow. Thought about masturbating but couldn’t muster the energy or will. It felt odd to masturbate. He did so rarely, with Nezumi at his service whenever he wanted.

            Except when he wasn’t home. Rehearsals and late night shows. Gone for hours at a time. His presence often stifling and overwhelming when he was home, but when he was gone his absence was carving. Shion reminded himself of the span of time when he’d only seen Nezumi on weekends, every other weekend. Reminded himself of the months, years that had passed without Nezumi. A few hours a day was not terrible. It was the nights that Shion really felt it. The nights when Nezumi had night shows, got home at early hours of the morning. When Shion was supposed to fall asleep without him. Bed half empty. Blanket too thin. Body empty of arms, legs, jostling breaths, dark hair that got into Shion’s eyes, stuck to his lips, twisted around his neck.

            Nezumi was impossible to sleep with. A tangling thing. Nightmares and dreams. Memories that pushed them awake, alert, at odd hours of the morning. He made sounds. His breath whistled. He murmured and shouted. Pushed Shion. Pulled him. Kicked him. Origami elbows that jarred Shion’s ribs.

            He was a presence in bed that made itself known; when this presence was there, more so when it was not. Shion laid, waiting to be grasped. Long fingers. Cool at first and then warm. A hot palm, often sweaty, pressed tight to Shion’s skin. Waiting to be accosted, his personal space taken. Whatever position he chose to sleep in would be rearranged by the man beside him. His limbs would be shuffled. When he had to choose for himself how to sleep, he was unable to do so. Find a position that wasn’t meant to be temporary. Find a place for his arms and legs where they would stay, not be repositioned.

            Shion did fall asleep. He usually did, when Nezumi had night shows. A light sleep. Just a close of his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if it was even sleep. If he wasn’t just lying still in darkness, breaths even and a little deeper than usual.

            He woke when Nezumi’s keys were in the front door. Watched the bedroom door that he kept open. Wanted one less barrier between Nezumi and him.

            Nezumi went to the bathroom first, as he always did. Shion listened to him wash his face. Brush his teeth. Use the bathroom, flush. His thoughts were silent until he came into the room.

            _Sleeping?_         

            Nezumi always wondered this. Shion found it amusing. He was never asleep after Nezumi came home. It amazed him that Nezumi could still not know this.

            _Awake._

            “Did I wake you?” A question he always asked.

            “No.” An answer Shion always gave him.

            Nezumi’s body was warm when he slipped under the blanket. Shion turned to face him. Lifted his head an inch to peek over Nezumi’s shoulder. The alarm clock on the night stand said it was half past two.

            “You’re home late.” Shion settled back down. Closed his eyes.

            “Had to talk to my director, remember?”

            “Oh, yeah. Did you tell me why?” Shion asked, realizing he didn’t have a clue.

            “No, I didn’t tell you.”

            There was something in Nezumi’s voice. Peculiar. Shion couldn’t name it. He opened his eyes and found Nezumi watching him.

            “Why did you talk to your director?”

             “Changes in my schedule.”

             “What changes?”

            Nezumi tucked his hair behind his ear. “I’m only going to do one night show a week, and I’m going to stop going to Monday rehearsals. The understudy will take over my other night shows. Now that there are no reductions to my paycheck, it won’t make a difference cutting out a few shows each month. I’ll still be netting much more than I was before.”

            Shion leaned up on his elbow. Looked down at Nezumi, whose eyes trailed him. “What?” Shion asked.

            “Should I repeat it?”

            “When did you decide this?”

            “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

            “No, you haven’t,” Shion said. He was a mind reader. He knew everything Nezumi thought.

            “Haven’t I told you before that you don’t know everything?”

            “I can read minds.”

            Nezumi raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been reading minds for eight years. I’ve been suppressing my thoughts for – ”

            _Twenty-four minus seven…seventeen years._

“ – seventeen. My special skills are a little more refined.”

            “But – But – ” Shion couldn’t think of what to say. What to do. He was happy. It swelled in his chest, a warm and blooming thing. There was nothing to protest. But – “Why did you say no to Monday rehearsals? I mean, it’ll be nice to have you home, but those rehearsals weren’t late or anything.”

            “Ran into Tamiko at the grocery store.”

            Shion assumed he’d heard incorrectly. “Who?”

            “The librarian at the library in town. She said she’s always wanted to ask me when I come to the library if I’m that actor who works in Tokyo. I told her I was. Turns out along with being a librarian, she works at the local theater.”

            “The local theater is for children,” Shion said. He’d already checked it out. For no other reason than that he liked to research. Liked to have all of the information. Would never ask Nezumi to leave the largest theater in Japan for a little local theater that only had shows on Monday nights, tickets selling at half the rate of a movie theater pass.

            “I am fully aware of that. They’re looking for a new director. They have Monday morning lessons and Monday night shows.”

            “What?” Shion asked.

            “I know you have an impressive intellect, but you’re not doing much to prove it.”

            “You’re going to teach little kids how to act?”

            “You seem surprised.”

            “I am surprised.”

             Nezumi shrugged. “We don’t need the money. But Tamiko sounded excited, and I’ve got the time. I don’t really mind. Could be interesting.”

            “I thought you didn’t even go to the library here. Don’t you go to the one in Tokyo?”

            “When you have the car I walk to the library,” Nezumi said, like Shion should have known this.

            “It’s a far walk to town.”

            “I like to walk. I’m used to walking.”

            Shion fought to wrap his head around it. Nezumi had no thoughts of relevance to what he was saying.

            _Pink lips. Those lips. Kiss him._

            “Wait, wait,” Shion said, to stop Nezumi from kissing him. He sat up, and Nezumi sat up too. “I’m thinking,” Shion explained, even though Nezumi looked at him without comment.

            “About what?”

            “This is what you want?”

            “Yes.”

            “You’ll still be at the theater in Tokyo one night a week, and for your day shows, and for your other normal rehearsals that aren’t on Monday.”

            “There’s that genius shining through.”

            _Cute. Confused for some reason. Cute when he’s confused._

            Shion exhaled. Felt like he had to be doing something. Saying something. Didn’t know what to do. What to say. 

            “Is something wrong?” Nezumi asked mildly.

            “Wrong?” The thought was absurd. Nonsensical.

            “You seem a little thrown off. Confused. Bewildered. I’m running out of synonyms here, it’s three in the morning.”

            “I’m – I’m amazed,” Shion said, settling on something.

            Nezumi squinted. “Amazed.”

            “Yes. This is amazing.”

            “What is amazing, exactly?”

            _He needs to sleep._

            Shion held up his hands. Let them fall back on his lap, unsure what to do with them. “This. Everything. All of it. You. Our lives here. It’s been a year. A whole year. That’s amazing, isn’t it amazing?”

            _Completely inarticulate. Needs sleep._

            “I don’t need sleep! Nezumi, I’m – ” Shion pushed himself up. Wanted to be standing. Stood on the mattress, blanket caught under bare feet. When he reached up he could touch the ceiling. He felt anchored, between the ceiling and the bed on the floor. Locked in place. Secure. Safe. Stable. Calm.

            “What are you doing?”

            _Drunk?_

            “I’m just really happy, Nezumi. I’m really happy.”

            “You’re standing on our bed.”

            “Stand with me.”

            “Why would I do that? You look like an idiot.”

            “Stand with me, Nezumi!”

            _Absolutely insane. Maybe on drugs. Did we have drugs in the house? Where would this kid get drugs?_

            Nezumi grumbled and pushed the blanket off his legs. Stood. Reached up, touched the ceiling with one hand, tips of long fingers.

            _What are we doing?_

            “We’re standing on the bed.”

            “Is there a reason we’re doing this?”

            “I can’t explain it. I felt this burst of energy. Like restlessness, but not like that at all. I feel really – really calm, in a whole-body sort of way. And it made sense to stand up. And then I liked standing up on the bed, so I wanted you to do it with me.” Shion was aware he wasn’t making sense. He didn’t need to make sense.

            _Makes absolutely no sense. Truly crazy. Really insane. Pink cheeks. Wide eyes. Happy. Why not stand on the bed? Makes him happy, might as well._

            “How long do you want to stand on the bed?” Nezumi asked.

            Shion smiled. He liked that Nezumi was appeasing him. He liked that it didn’t make sense at all. He liked standing in front of Nezumi on their bed at quarter to three in the morning. Bare feet. Fingers touching the ceiling, like they were the only ones holding it up, effortless, like they had so much more strength than they’d ever imagined.

            “Not too long,” Shion said.

            _That smile. He’s practically giddy. Stand on this bed for the rest of the night if he wants. Rest of my life._

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my degree when I get it,” Shion said.

            Nezumi watched him calmly. His thoughts registered his surprise.

            _His career? Are we talking about that now?_   

            “No. We’re not. I just wanted to – I wanted to tell you that. That I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m not worried about feeling unsatisfied or unfulfilled or like I’m not living up to my potential anymore. I know I will. Be satisfied. I know that I’ll be happy. I am happy. I just wanted to tell you, because it’s what I’m thinking, and you can’t read my thoughts, but I wanted you to know.”

            Shion glanced away from Nezumi, only to check the time. The alarm clock on the nightstand said it was nearly three. They had planned to wake early the next day, beat the sun to drive to a town six hours away. To explore, but really to look. They’d narrowed their search down to rural villages and towns bordering the mountains. Shion didn’t know if Nezumi would ever find the place from his memories, shared with Shion in their dreams. Shion didn’t know if Nezumi would recognize it if he did find it.

            The point, Shion had realized, was not to find it at all. It was just to look. To search. Shion wasn’t entirely sure Nezumi even wanted to find it. He liked looking. Driving on highways just a little above the speed limit. Windows down in the summer but up in the cold months, heat blasting. Eyes searching the horizon. An excuse to think about his dreams, his memories. An excuse to remember more.

            “I know you’re happy,” Nezumi said.

            “I know you know. I just wanted to tell you anyway.”

            _Crazy. Love this kid. Completely nuts. It’s three in the morning._

            “Should we keep standing, or are we good to lie down now?” Nezumi asked. He shifted, lifting his left hand up, dropping his right hand once the other was touching the ceiling in its place. Like his hands were on shifts to hold up the roof over their heads.

            “I think I’m good to lie down now. Are you good?”

            _I’m very good._

            Shion took his hands from the ceiling first. Lowered back down onto the bed. Slipped his feet under the blanket as Nezumi settled beside him.

            _Want to have sex?_

            Nezumi was already rolling onto Shion. Kissing his neck. His hair tickled Shion’s skin.

            “Do you still want to get up early tomorrow? It’s already three.” Shion tilted his chin up to expose more of his neck for Nezumi to kiss. Didn’t want Nezumi to miss an inch. Warm lips. Hot breath.

            _Let’s go Monday, I don’t start at the local theater till next week. Can you take off the bakery?_

            Shion strung his fingers through Nezumi’s hair. “Probably. I’ll go in tomorrow and make sure everything is set up for Monday without me.”

            Nezumi’s hand reached between Shion’s thighs. Over the fabric of his boxers. Shion arched into his touch, exhaling hard, sound escaping with his exhale.

            _Let’s sleep in tomorrow._

            “Okay,” Shion agreed. A breath. Tightened his hand in Nezumi’s hair. Nezumi bit softly into his jawline.

            _You’re pulling._

            “I know.”

            _Very hard._       

            Shion smiled. “I know.”

            Nezumi surfaced from the underside of his neck. “Happy anniversary,” he said.

            Shion was distracted enough that his fingers loosened from Nezumi’s hair. Fell out completely. He stopped grinding his hips up to increase the pressure of Nezumi’s palm. “Anniversary?”

            “It’s been a year, hasn’t it?”   

            “In this house, yeah. Is that an anniversary?”

            “Safu said it was.”

            Shion reached back into Nezumi’s hair, only because his bangs covered his eyes. Shion pushed them up, held them off Nezumi’s forehead. “Safu?”

            “You may remember her. Childhood friend. Was just at our house. Smart girl. Tough. Likes to argue. I think she picked three fights with me just to prove me wrong. I like her.”

            “She told you it was our anniversary? It’s not the day we met. Or the day we first had sex. Or the day we got together after we broke that off. Or the day – ”

            “Yeah, she said since it was complicated and we had to pick a day, it had to be today. Only logical or something like that. She’s very convincing. I was convinced.”

            Safu was convincing. Shion understood now what she and Nezumi had been talking about so seriously while they prepared the salad.

            “In that case, happy anniversary,” Shion said. As if they’d only known each other for a year. Not over four. As if a year was even worth documenting when to Shion it could have been a week, it could have been a lifetime. As if time even meant a thing, when around Nezumi, Shion often forgot it existed, failed to understand its steady passing.

*

It was sometime later, early spring. Nezumi drove according to the GPS on Shion’s phone. From the passenger seat Shion read out loud a novel neither were familiar with, recommended by the local librarian. He did not skip pages. Started at the first word and ended at the last.

            Not long after the end of the novel, Nezumi parked the car. Turned off the ignition. Opened the door and got out, and Shion got out as well. It was the change of the seasons. The air brisk and consuming, whitening the breaths straight out of their lungs.

            Nezumi had not quite driven into town. They were stopped on the shoulder of the highway. A road-sign not far off said the town sat off an exit only a mile down.

            Tall grass swayed in the fields that hugged the highway. Nezumi walked around the front of the car, past Shion, stepped onto the grass, kept walking. Shion stood still, watched him, until from Nezumi’s thoughts he read –

            _Stay with me._

            Shion walked after him, watching Nezumi’s shoulderblades underneath his jacket that shifted with his strides. The breeze that pulled Nezumi’s hair. Dark. Loose. Wild.

            In the distance, mountains loomed.

*

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :)


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